Ex Sanguis OLD VERSION
by Aytheria
Summary: DISCONTINUED. Old Version. See new version under same name for edited and updated story and story summary . Thanks. xoxRia
1. Summer Begins

**Title:**_Ex Sanguis_

**Author:**_Aytheria_

**Summary:**_It's the summer after Harry's fifth year; Harry is whisked off to a different dimension where he finds new family and a lost heritage. It all seems too good to be true, but what is Aunt Petunia not telling him...and is everything really as good as it seems?_

**Disclaimer:**_Um, I don't own Harry Potter. But I do own the entire series in English, French and Japanese, because I'm weird like that. _

**IMPORTANT AN: **I have a few things to say about this fanfic which you may or may not find important:

This is my guilty pleasure. i.e. It is my stress relief. I never intended to take this fic seriously, it was a kind of parody if you will in the beginning, although it slowly started to evolve from that into something more and I eventually edited it a bit when inspiration struck me in the middle of exams

If I fail my exams, it's because of this blasted fic. So be grateful (that is, if you actually LIKE this, which I hesitate to say you will)

Because this fic is my stress relief, I won't be the least bit dedicated towards it. Ok, well, not really. Just not to the extend that I am my Narnia drabble (**shamelessly advertises her own fanfiction**) which, btw, if you like Narnian stuff you should go check out, because I'm told it's quite good. XP

If stuff doesn't make sense, that's probably because it really truly makes no sense. I'm making this up as I go along and half the time I don't know what I'm writing and the other half of the time I'm stressed and on a sugar high from too much chocolate.

This isn't meant to stay overly in character or be believable, so if that's what you're looking for, turn back now.

This fic isn't beta-ed

Just read it. Thanks.

Ok, enjoy.

* * *

Harry sat silently in the back of his uncle's car on the way home from his fifth year at Hogwarts. It was a very terse silence that permeated the atmosphere. His Aunt Petunia sat stiffly in the passenger seat in front of him while Uncle Vernon gripped the wheel a little too tightly as he drove.

So far only a few words had been exchanged since meeting up at the train station (not including the Order's threats), and those had only been clipped commands to get his things into the car so they could leave. Harry wasn't overly worried by this behaviour however, because it was quite natural for his relatives. He was only glad Dudley had opted to stay at home or the car might not be so silent.

Harry much preferred the silence to his uncle's ranting or his cousin's piggy-eyed glares of promised pain.

The countryside flashed by outside as Uncle Vernon finally turned off the M25 and onto the freer motorways. In fact, Harry mussed silently, as he turned his head to stare dizzily at the flashing streaks of colour, his uncle drove like a maniac. He eyed the speedometer and estimated they were going about 90mph. However, he decided against pointing this out to either of his relatives and simply gripped the seat belt tightly. He'd been on faster rides, of course, like his broom, but at least then he had the reassurance of his own hand at the wheel, or rather, the handle.

With a carefully hidden sigh, Harry closed his eyes against the glare of the midday sun and sat back, waited, and tried not to let his mind wander. Having an anguished sob in front of his uncaring relatives would not be the wisest course of action.

It was an hour drive to Surrey from London, but with his Uncle's driving it only took them 45 minutes. When the car finally swung into the driveway of Number 4 Privet Drive, the first thing Harry's relatives did was leave him alone in the car as if he didn't exist.

Shrugging, Harry exited the car and opened the driver's door to pop the boot. Once that was done, he grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's owl cage (fortunately not with Hedwig still in it, he'd sent her on ahead earlier), and proceeded to heave them to the front door. The trunk seemed heavier this year, though Harry supposed it had to do with all the extra books added for each new school year.

He made it to the door and was relieved to find it wasn't locked. His relatives liked to pretend he wasn't real, even going so far as to lock the door after them when they knew he was still outside. Grunting, Harry pushed the door open with his shoulder and dragged his trunk inside.

Dudley was waiting for him on the stairs, a bowl of ice cream in one hand and a coca cola in the other. Harry didn't return the sneer sent his way, and instead pushed his things up against the wall and went into the kitchen. Hopefully Dudley would get bored of blocking the way upstairs and he would move.

As it turned out, Harry didn't have to wait that long. No sooner had he entered the kitchen than Uncle Vernon began proclaiming loudly to his wife that he and 'Dudders' would be going out to visit the gym. Apparently, Dudley was still boxing and he and Vernon were exclusive members of a health club that would allow Dudley to build up some muscle for his fights. Harry couldn't have possibly thought of a more fitting sport for his large whale of a cousin. The boy was a bully to the core.

Dudley was forced to abandon his ice cream and soda and thump up the stairs to get his things. Harry waited in the shadows for Dudley to come back down before he started trying to heave his belongings up the narrow staircase. He was half way up and panting heavily by the time he heard the car drive away.

Now it was just him and Aunt Petunia, and Harry was quite grateful. Hopefully, Uncle Vernon and Dudley would go out to the gym often during the summer hols and leave Harry some room to breathe - and time to grieve.

"Stop thumping that thing, boy!" Aunt Petunia suddenly screeched from behind him, making Harry jump. He certainly hadn't heard her come out of the kitchen. He craned his head around and spotted her by the base of the stairs, glaring up at him angrily with her cooking apron on and a wooden spoon in one hand.

"Sorry Aunt Petunia," said Harry, who was not really very sorry at all.

Aunt Petunia harrumphed and stalked back into her domain. With a sigh, Harry finished pulling his trunk up the stairs and quickly went back for Hedwig's cage. Gripping it tightly under his arm, he was easily able to get the much lighter and less bulky metal contraption up the stairs, and in record time he had his things situated in his room.

Sitting on his bed, Harry contemplated opening his trunk and getting his books out, but decided against it after thinking of the huge essay Snape had assigned them for Potions. After all, he had his wand with him and that was all that currently mattered. Then, Harry felt his stomach growl and he sighed again. Now he'd have to go filch some food before Vernon and Dudley came back, or else he'd be very hungry. Sometimes it was so hard going from the delicious dinners of Hogwarts to the meagre scraps off of Petunia's table.

Unfortunately for Harry, Aunt Petunia was acting Mistress of the Kitchen for the day and the only way Harry would be getting any food was if he did it right in front of his aunt. Figuring it couldn't hurt, Harry tiptoed into the kitchen as quietly as possible when Petunia's back was turned. If he tried to bring as little attention to himself as possible, it was likely she would ignore him.

Harry was triumphant. He managed to grab an apple, a few slices of bread, and a bag of crisps before Petunia knew he was in the kitchen, and by then he was already walking out, acting like he had every right to be taking food (which technically he did, but Harry's relatives were a bit of an abusive lot and didn't take kindly to such assumptions).

Safely ensconced back in his bedroom, Harry opened his crisp packet and ate them with relish. Despite how wonderful Hogwarts food was, sometimes Harry missed the regular mundane foods like pizza and crisps and burgers. To be fair, pizzas and burgers were more of a delicacy to Harry than properly cooked meals because the Dursleys so rarely let him have them.

Harry scowled at this thought and determined to have at least one pizza or burger this summer before he went back to school. Maybe he could bribe Tonks to go out and get one for him on her next guarding shift? It was plausible.

It turned out that the crisps, apple, and bread were to be Harry's only dinner that night, so he went to bed with a rather empty stomach and dearly wishing he'd saved the crisps. Fortunately, Harry's internal alarm clock managed to wake him early enough that he was able to nick a decent breakfast and be back in his room before the Dursleys even began to stir. Harry had very good survival instincts - they were well honed from years of practise.

Two more days passed in this manner before Harry decided to vary his schedule a bit. Instead of appearing in front of his uncle only to be ordered to get to work doing something or other in the garden, Harry stayed shut in his room and broke out his textbooks.

_Hermione would be so proud_, he couldn't help but think as he started on his gruelling Potions essay first.

But, soon Harry grew bored of looking up ingredient reactions and thinking intellectually and so switched to something less stressful like his Care of Magical Creatures summer homework. Bless Hagrid for being such an easy grader. Indeed, Harry was quite fond of his larger friend.

Harry managed to sneak more food than he was given for dinner that evening and was feeling inordinately pleased with himself when he went to bed that night. He'd even managed to spot his guard out the window as well and waved. A disembodied hand had waved back.

So Harry went to sleep that night, not knowing that he, and the rest of the Dursleys, would be woken the next morning at just past dawn by a commotion in the living room.

Vernon was the first up, although Harry had found himself awake and listening sleepily to the sounds of hushed voices and a bit of banging coming from downstairs. In fact, it took quite some time for the sounds to register in Harry's mind as being part of reality and not some strange dream he was having. It was this thought that had him grasping for his wand in one hand and slowly drawing back the covers with the other.

He had just hidden himself behind his door when a harsh whisper came through the keyhole.

"Boy!" Hissed the voice.

Harry jumped and almost let loose a curse until he realised that it was only his Uncle Vernon.

"What?" He hissed back.

"Go check downstairs! Someone's broken in! It might be _your_ lot." Vernon Dursley ordered his nephew, his own well-being foremost in his mind.

Harry really shouldn't have been surprised at the utter selfishness and self-preservation that his uncle was currently displaying, but he still found himself wordlessly working his mouth up and down.

"No way!" He finally managed.

"Now boy!" Vernon's voice was louder this time and the voices floating up the stairs paused momentarily.

In the end, Harry concluded that he was the only one in the household most capable of defending himself, so really, it ought to be him that ventured downstairs to see what the problem was. Of course, that didn't mean he had to like the situation.

Glaring heavily at his uncle who was peering at him (along with Petunia and Dudley) from the safety of Dudley's room, Harry cautiously poked his head around the corner of the stairwell and gazed about. He didn't see anyone, but he could hear shuffling from the direction of the living room. Taking a deep breath, and trying not to think about how thoroughly _stupid _he was being, he started creeping down the stairs.

Fortunately, in Harry's many years of honing his survival instincts, he's also learnt all the ins and outs of the Dursley household staircase. This of course included knowing exactly where to place his feet so as not produce any squeaking. Feeling slightly smug at this knowledge, Harry crept down the stairs and reached the bottom without a single sound. Socks also came in handy, it was useful to note.

By now, Harry had determined that the voices were most definitely coming from the living room. He stilled himself and tried to work out some of the frantic whispering. It didn't take him long to realise that the intruders were speaking in a different language. It was a beautiful language, full of soft sounds and trills and lilted voices. Harry could have stood there and listened to it all day, but another thump and what sounded like a curse managed to draw his attention back to the matter at hand.

Now, he had quickly come to the conclusion that the intruders were neither death eaters nor Order members, which didn't leave many options left. If he included the strange language these people were speaking then that left virtually no options at all. Harry really had no idea who these people could be. Either way, he wasn't going to find out standing hidden behind the wall. Taking a deep breath, he slowly poked his head around the wall...

And almost gasped out loud.

There were two, well, Harry didn't think it was fair to call them people, because they weren't; they were _beings_, standing in the living room. Or rather, they were exploring the living room. He had to hold back a desire to giggle, because both of the tall, willowy people looked like little children in a sweet shop.

Still, Harry stared at them in avid fascination, they were unlike anything he had ever seen before. He knew they weren't human, although he wasn't sure exactly how he knew. They were definitely humanoid in shape and had no random protruding animal appendages like wings or tails, yet, Harry knew straight away that they weren't human.

He studied them more closely (as closely as he could hidden behind a wall) and finally figured it out. First it was their clothes. Or more rather, the way they wore their clothes, as if they were wisps of silk floating on a breeze. The fabric didn't rustle, simply whispered. It was rather enchanting. Second, they were both rather tall and slender and their skin almost shined. But it wasn't abnormally pale or anything. One being was pale, but the other was actually almost tanned. So it wasn't that, it just sort of glowed for no reason. Harry thought that maybe they were like glow worms and absorbed luminescent light, but then dismissed the idea as being silly.

Third, which took him more time to identify, the beings had oddly shaped ears. They were long, pointed and delicate. And they twitched occasionally. They were perhaps an inch or two longer than normal human ears and tapered at the end. Harry reckoned they had very good hearing and wondered how they hadn't figured out he was spying on them yet.

However, the final indicator (besides the completely beautiful and inhuman language they were speaking, which Harry was quiet sure no mortal throat could reproduce) was that when one of these beings bent down to gaze curiously at one of Aunt Petunia's prized vases, the reflection of its eyes _glowed_. Like a cat's.

_Must have great night vision as well_, Harry mussed to himself.

Seeing more of the sun's rays creep through the partially open blinds and light up the room more, Harry felt that now would be an opportune moment to retreat back upstairs and inform the Dursleys of his findings. He had the feeling that Vernon was going to be none too happy at the clearly magical beings in his 'normal' living room. He would take quite a lot of pleasure in informing his relatives and watching their reactions. Maybe Vernon's face would take on that fascinating days-old-porridge colour that it sometimes turned. Or Dudley might run and hide his bottom again. Harry still had such fond memories of that incident.

Thinking these happy thoughts, the raven-haired boy snuck quietly back up the stairs and searched for his 'family'. He found them huddled in his aunt and uncle's room.

As soon as he closed the door quietly behind him, Uncle Vernon almost pounced on him. Beady eyes staring feverishly into Harry's own, Vernon demanded to know what was happening and if they should call the police.

"Oh I wouldn't do that, it might cause a commotion," Harry told him with relish. He waited a second or two for the implications to sink in. When they did, he was not disappointed. Vernon's face turned a lovely shade of mauve-ish purple.

"Then it's _your_ lot!" His uncle practically spat.

"Nope!" Said Harry cheerfully.

Vernon blinked at this and Harry heard Dudley whimper.

"If it's not _your_ lot, then who is it?" The man demanded.

"Well," began Harry, feeling disappointed that his uncle had gotten over his shock so quickly, "I'm not sure really."

"Are they robbers?"

"No, at least, I don't think so."

"Murderers?"

"Pretty sure, no."

"Blazes boy! Are they the neighbours come round for _tea_!? Who _is it_?"

Harry stopped playing games with his uncle, afraid the man might keel over dead from exertion.

"Ok, I really don't know, but I can describe them to you," he began.

"Describe?" Petunia asked from the bed.

Harry nodded at his aunt and thought about how best to describe other-worldly creatures to his magic-fearing muggle relatives.

"They're tall," he began again, only to be cut off by Vernon.

"TALL?!"

"Shhh, Vernon, not so loud!" Petunia hushed her husband frantically, flapping her hands about like a twittery bird.

"Right," Harry continued, "they're tall. They're also wearing weird silky clothes which look pretty elaborate and speaking some weird whispery language too." At the words 'weird whispery language' Aunt Petunia made a funny choking noise in the back of her throat. Harry hoped she wasn't asphyxiating. "Mm, and they're all kind of glowy with glowy eyes." Aunt Petunia made another funny choking noise. Vernon quickly became concerned and patted her heavily on the back. "Oh, yeah," said Harry, leaving the best for last, "and they have really long pointy ears. Like elves. From movies."

Aunt Petunia fainted.

Uncle Vernon let out a strangled yelp and Dudley squeaked out a horrified "Mum!"

This was shaping up to be a lively summer, Harry thought, as his uncle and cousin frantically tried to fan Petunia back into the land of the living. He stood quietly by the door, keeping one ear on what was going on downstairs (or more importantly, whether what was going on downstairs was moving _upstairs_) and the other on Vernon's frantic callings of "Pet! Come on Pet, wake up!"

Finally, Aunt Petunia moaned and stirred. She sat up with the aid of her husband and put a trembling hand to her forehead.

"What happened?" She asked, clearly confused.

"I was telling you about the 'elves' downstairs and you fainted," Harry told her.

Aunt Petunia turned that odd shade of days-old-porridge.

"Pet?" Vernon asked anxiously.

"This is a dream right?" Whispered Petunia hoarsely.

"No, I already checked." Harry pinched himself again just in case.

"Th-this shouldn't be happened. It's not true, tell me it's not true!" Aunt Petunia was now growing somewhat hysterical. Harry began to suspect that perhaps his Aunt knew more about their situation than she let on.

"Care to enlighten us?" He asked, letting it be known that he knew she knew something.

Petunia's eyes met Harry's and suddenly he knew with certainty that his aunt really did know.

"I..." she tried.

They waited in silence, both Dudley and Vernon having caught on as well.

"I...I don't...I can't...It's..." Petunia's voice trailed off, mouth working helplessly.

"It's okay Aunt Petunia," Harry soothed, feeling a little guilty about his aunt's state. But apparently not guilty enough, because he added next, "Shall I go tell them you'll be down to speak with them in a few? It'll give you time to compose yourself."

Harry made as if to leave the room, but Petunia's muffled shriek stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder as she scrambled from the bed and raced to the door where she physically blocked him from going further.

"Pet..."

"No, Vernon. I-I need to speak with them alone." Petunia was slowly regaining her colour, though she still looked frightfully pale.

"But...those..._creatures_...could be dangerous," her husband protested.

"Don't go Mum," whimpered Dudley.

Aunt Petunia shook her head 'no'.

"I'm sorry, I must." She seemed to draw herself up, suddenly appearing taller and far more self-assured than she usually did. Harry was impressed. Who knew his aunt could command such an air about her?

"Stay here," she instructed, then pulled open the door and left.

Harry, Dudley and Uncle Vernon were left staring at the door. They exchanged looks, for once not hateful, and then all simultaneously offered to go follow Petunia and spy on her.

"It has to be me," Harry was insisting.

"Why_you_?" Dudley sneered.

"_Because_ Dudders." Harry eyed his cousin's heavy bulk. "You would set off every creak and crack in the house. They'd know you were there in a heart beat."

"Then I'll go!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed.

"Uncle," Harry said exasperatedly, "same goes for you. I'm the only one that can sneak around in this house. So I should go."

"Absolutely not," argued Vernon.

"I still think it should be me, I can too be quiet!" Dudley whined.

Harry rubbed his temples.

"Do you_want_ them to know you're listening?" He finally asked after man and son had exchanged a few more lines.

There was a simultaneous "No!"

"Then let _me_ go," Harry cried, his curiosity now burning passionately.

"Fine!" Uncle Vernon snapped, "We'll _all_ go!"

Harry rolled his eyes. There was no way Petunia and their..._guests_ weren't going to know they were there.

"Then we might as well not sneak and just walk in," he decided.

Silence. Then, "Fine."

All three males headed for the door and had a brief scuffle as to who would go first (Harry won of course, as he was much more easily able to get through the doorway), and they finally exited single file, Vernon in the back. As Harry padded down the hall and Dudley waddled (while Vernon thumped) after him, Harry almost likened the situation to a mother duck with her ducklings. Then the thought made him go green, so he frantically banished it from his mind and headed down the stairs, not bothering to be quiet.

_Squeak. Creak. Groan_. The stairs protested having not only Harry, but also Dudley and Vernon all crowded onto them at the same time. Any voices that had been talking in the living room fell quiet. There was a shuffling and then Petunia appeared at the foot of the stairs looking angry. Harry froze like a deer caught in headlights and Dudley almost knocked him down when he bumped into his back.

"I told you to _stay_," she hissed, face pinched.

"But Pet..." whined Vernon.

Petunia glared.

Harry licked his lips, said, "Curiosity killed the cat," and shrugged apologetically.

"Go," ordered his aunt.

However, before she could brow-beat them into returning to the bedroom, the two beings from earlier came out to investigate the noises. Harry's breath caught at being faced directly with the beautiful creatures. Dudley squeaked and Vernon choked.

The beings' eyes flicked from one person to another before finally coming to rest on Harry. They stared at him in what, if Harry didn't know any better, could almost be described as awe. Now why would such stunning beings be looking at plain old Harry Potter in _awe_? It didn't make sense, so he dismissed it as being a misinterpretation.

Suddenly, one of the beings spoke a word. It was only a single word, faintly whispered in breathy tones, but it was enough to make Aunt Petunia pale and shriek "NO!"

She whirled around and tried to herd the elfin beings back into the living room, but they evaded her grasp and came right up to the bottom step of the staircase. They were close enough to touch.

And then one did.

The being reached out with a light hand and grasped Harry's chin. Or, he held his hand out as if grasping Harry's chin and some invisible force did it for him. Harry froze and stared straight into the strangely slitted pupils of the elf-like being. All of a sudden, he smiled, showing straight, white teeth with surprisingly sharp eye-teeth. He spoke the same word as before and caressed Harry's face with his weird power. Then, Petunia interposed herself and wrenched the being's hand away with brutal force. She stood in front of Harry and tried to push him back up the stairs. Even if Harry had wanted to move (which he didn't, he was fascinated), he couldn't have because Dudley was still directly behind him and strangely silent and still. Harry suspected he'd gone into shock.

Petunia was trying to argue with the being. The elfin male was adamantly repeating the word Harry had heard earlier over and over again interspersed with others in what were clearly several sentences. Harry had to wonder how his Aunt Petunia knew what the being was saying. He eyed her suspiciously.

"No, no no!" She was still warding him from any further attempts to touch him again, but the beings were getting steadily more stubborn, and, it seemed, almost angry. Finally, the second being snapped something harsh sounding and Petunia stopped moving. All of a sudden she seemed to deflate and her shoulders slumped. The being (this one was female) snapped off a few more phrases and Petunia moaned and put her head in her hands.

Harry was starting to feel somewhat alarmed. This situation was getting stranger and stranger by the second, and it was beginning to lose it's marvel. Not to mention, where was the Order? Shouldn't they have noticed these beings and be in here demanding if they were working for Voldemort and if they had any bad intentions towards Harry by now?

Harry looked around, but he saw only his aunt and the two elfin creatures (by now Harry really wanted to know what they were really called, because he felt like it was insulting to call these, well, people,_creatures_ and _beings_ all the time).

Harry realised with a start that Petunia was speaking, her English sounding harsh after listening to the melodic tones of the other's language.

"Fine._Fine._" She was saying. "But I come too, do you hear me?"

The being said a few things. He obviously understood English.

"No I don't _want_ to you fool!" Aunt Petunia snapped.

A few more unintelligible syllables.

"Just because! I made a promise to that stupid old fool of a Headmaster, so I _will_ be coming."

Harry immediately became interested. What promise? His aunt had made a promise to Dumbledore?

The being was smiling now and nodding.

"Give me a moment. I'll have him collect his belongings."

Wait, what? Harry jerked as Petunia turned around to face him and glared at him.

"Go fetch your belongings boy!" She snapped, still very, very upset.

"Wait a minute Petunia!" Vernon finally found his voice again.

"Don't argue with me Vernon, this has to be done, or neither you nor I will like the consequences." Petunia's voice was stony. Harry felt he was viewing a whole new side to his aunt that he'd never before seen.

Vernon stopped his blustering at his wife's words and quieted down, most likely remembering all the other unfortunate encounters he'd had with anything magical - Harry included.

"Come along Dudders," the beefy man finally muttered grudgingly.

Dudley seemed to come back to himself and made a few garbled noises before following his father back up the stairs. They both disappeared and a door slammed shut with a bang.

"Don't just stand there," Harry's aunt snapped again, "Get a move on!"

Hesitantly, wondering if it was really a good idea to listen to his aunt right now, Harry stepped back up the stairs. Still thinking furiously, he gathered his belongings, most of which were still packed in his trunk, and briefly debated whether or not to bring Hedwig's cage. However, since Hedwig was with Ron at the moment and wasn't likely to come unless she had a letter, Harry decided to leave it. Worrying his lip between his teeth in anxious thought, he dragged his trunk out of his room and only got about as far as the stairs before he was stopped. Both the beings had stopped him, smiled, and were now carrying Harry's trunk down the stairs for him. Their willowy figures obviously belied their greater than average strength.

"From the living room then." Aunt Petunia had changed into something a little better than her pyjamas. Harry belatedly realised he was still wearing his. Oh well.

He followed her into the living room where the two beings were standing next to Harry's trunk in the middle of a circle. Harry stared at the circle. Where had that come from?

The circle seemed to be made of some crushed something or other, but Harry didn't know what. He watched as Aunt Petunia stepped into it without breaking the line and followed her example, still wondering if he should be doing this.

_It's okay Harry,_ he told himself, _Aunt Petunia wouldn't do anything like this if it was going to harm her, so I'm safe._

Then, the beings began to chant.

The circle glowed and a barrier shot up from the floor, encircling them all within its pulsating shield. There was a frantic thumping from upstairs as both Vernon and Dudley stomped down the stairs. The last thing that Harry saw before his vision was overcome with white, was the gormless, gaping expressions of his uncle and cousin as they stared at the circle of light from the living room door.

Then it was white and Harry was weightless.

* * *

**AN2:** Ok, so that's the first chapter.

Again, this was originally meant as a humorous parody of all those "Harry discovers a lost heritage and runs off to another dimension where he finds family, etc, blah blah" but I ended up turning it somewhat serious. You may notice the writing style change too. I originally tried writing it in J.K. Rowling's initial writing style for the first couple of HP books (see any similarities? I tried to make it light-hearted) but as the fic gets more serious, which I fear it shall (oh well), the writing style will probably change.

**shrugs**

Anyway, I guess reviews are always appreciated, so I know what you all think. If I didn't care then I'd just keep this story all to myself and never post it. But alas, I do care. So review please if you want to see another chapter.

Not that I probably won't post one anyway. I actually have the next chapter sort of written (a writing bug bit me) but it needs major editing.

Also, once again, this fic will NOT be updated often. Maybe once a month?**thinks** Really, it depends on my mood and whether I'm feeling stressed. The more stressed I am, the more I will write this sort-of-silly fic.

No, that does not mean you can go out and chant voodoo rituals to make me more stressed than I already am. That's so not allowed.

Ok, I need to tone down the sarcasm. My sugar high wore off I'm afraid. I apologise.

And what's with the formal writing? Wth??

**eats more chocolate**

There that should do it.

Tell me what you think. **kudos.**

xoxRia


	2. Surprise!

**Chapter 2:**

When Harry came to, he was standing (swaying more like) in a polished, marble-like chamber with an incredibly high vaulted ceiling. He blinked and stared around him in awe. The chamber was large, with crystal lighting fixtures (or Harry assumed them to be crystal) and large windows with thin panes of glass. The windows were large, arched, and many in number. The soft, pale colours of the marble and bright light streaming through the glass lit up the room with a soft glow. The effect was impressive, and Harry couldn't say he wasn't impressed. Whoever these beings were, they were obviously very wealthy and master artisans.

The two beings stepped in front of Harry and his aunt - who almost seemed to Harry like she wanted to reach out and draw him away from them - and smiled at him, gesturing to the chamber. Harry smiled hesitantly back, still nervous and uncertain. The male being spoke a few warm words. Then they turned around and started walking.

"Come on," Aunt Petunia said sourly, "and stay close, keep your head down, and for goodness sakes don't _say_ anything."

Harry made as if to follow his aunt before remembering his trunk and turned to go back for it.

"Leave it!" She snapped at him.

Harry hastily followed her out of the chamber's only single arch that wasn't a window, glancing mournfully over his shoulder at the lone trunk sitting in the middle of the floor. Looking at it now (the floor, not the trunk), Harry realised there was a large circular pattern on the stone and wondered if it had anything to do with the transporting circle they'd been in before.

Still, he had his wand with him, and that was all he really needed for the moment.

The beings were quite a ways ahead of them and didn't bother to stop and wait for them to catch up, so Aunt Petunia was able to whisper frantically in Harry's ear. He began to grow more and more alarmed at every word she spoke and started to regret not putting up a fight over coming.

"When we get to the throne room, do exactly as I do and _do not speak_, are we clear?" Petunia was hissing.

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Throne room? Oh dear.

"I am going to try and get us out of this situation as best as I can, but be prepared for a long stay," she continued.

Harry asked: what on earth was she talking about?

"I mean, if you hadn't taken it into your fool head to come downstairs they might have come and gone without being any the wiser that you were alive!" Petunia snapped.

"But why would they care about me?" Harry whispered anxiously.

Petunia was silent, not answering, and Harry took the opportunity to look around at where they were going. They were in a corridor that looked very similar to the room they'd just been in, decorated by large arching windows filled with sunlight, and crystal fixtures with softly glowing balls of lights; leaving no shadows in their wake. Harry tried looking out the windows, but they appeared to be high up and so all he saw were clouds and the tips of a few shining spiral towers.

"Just leave the talking to me," Harry's aunt finally responded, "there might be hope left yet."

"Whatever's going on, it doesn't seem too bad," Harry told her.

Petunia's face twisted in a scowl and she muttered, "You have no idea."

A few moments later. "Whatever you do, don't be defiant, as I know you are prone to being."

"Hey!" exclaimed Harry indignantly. Petunia shot him a look as if to say, 'see?'

Harry flushed and mumbled, "All right, I'll try to be good."

"You won't _try_," Aunt Petunia stressed, "you _will_. Because if you don't, you may never leave this place again. I spent half my life trying to get out and so did your mother, so don't make all our hard work go to shame."

Harry gaped. "Wh-what?" He spluttered.

But his Aunt Petunia didn't say anything else and marched on silently, slowly starting to catch up to the beings ahead of them. Harry was left wondering what on earth his aunt had meant by that last statement and what was _really_ going on. Really, how could she say something like that and then leave him hanging? It was cruel and unusual punishment, in Harry's opinion. Or maybe pay back. He couldn't tell.

So, he tried his best not to think of the implications of what his aunt_might_ have meant.

Eventually they passed out of the corridor and took a couple of wide spiral stairs down wards. Everywhere they went there were large windows and lots of light, which Harry thought really suited the beings because of their ethereal appearance.

They began to see more arches and the occasional door lining the corridors which led off into more sun lit rooms, and decorations began to pop up. Harry saw several beautifully depicted wall murals, floor mosaics, delicate sculptures and even living plants with increasing frequency as they went deeper into the...castle? Palace? He wasn't sure where they were, or even if it was a singular building, but whatever it was, the architecture was breath-taking.

Then more of the elfin-like beings began to appear.

They passed the first one in a corridor and she stopped walking and gaped at the two humans as they passed. Then more began to appear in archways and doorways and Harry felt like he was on display in a zoo as all their strange eyes bored into his back. He also desperately wished he'd changed out of his ratty pyjamas before coming, because he felt woefully undressed, awkward, and ugly in his old, faded, too-large t-shirt and flannel pants. He felt his face flush slightly as they walked and tried to hide it by ducking his head. He also felt in his pants pocket for his wand for reassurance.

At some point Harry glanced up at his Aunt Petunia to gauge her reaction to all the attention and their surroundings, and somehow he wasn't surprised to see her walking confidently with a mild look of distaste on her face, as if this was a normal occurrence. He wanted desperately to ask his aunt who these beings were and why they were staring, but he didn't dare speak out loud because he'd surely be heard. Harry had long ago decided that in cases such as these, he ought to listen to instructions and keep his mouth shut and head down.

So he did.

Harry didn't know how long they walked, but eventually they halted in front of two rather grand and impressive doors. They were made out of some sort of pale wood with depictions of the elfin beings and nature in metallic threads of what looked like gold, silver, bronze and maybe some crystal. Harry raised his head high enough to admire them, ignoring the eyes staring at him from around the edges of the chamber they were in.

Their two guides turned around and spoke to Aunt Petunia about something (Harry didn't know what, obviously) after which Aunt Petunia turned around and told Harry in no uncertain terms to follow her lead and do_exactly as instructed_, or else. He didn't know what the "or else" could mean, but decided to not to press his luck. Aunt Petunia could be very scary sometimes. He nodded his head and Petunia seemed somewhat satisfied. She turned back around and snapped at the two beings to "Get on with it!"

Harry craned his neck around his aunt to get a better look when the door started to swing silently open. This proved to be a bit stupid in retrospect, because as soon as Harry caught sight of the couple sitting on the thrones in the centre of the long room, all else faded into the background, including Aunt Petunia's warnings to keep his head down and be inconspicuous.

They were the most beautiful beings Harry had ever seen, even the male. The female had a face shaped so finely, it looked to be made of porcelain. It was painted sparsely with something that sparkled, but what caught Harry's attention were the delicate metal ornaments on her cheekbones and forehead, going up to weave into her mass of reddish bronze curls. He was really too far away to see all the intricacies of her hair, but there must have been so many different weaves of crystal, gem-like orbs and metal twinning, that it had probably taken _days_ to get it right. She had a lot of hair too. Looking at it reminded Harry of his mother's hair, though this woman's was far lighter. But then, her eyes also glittered an emerald green - just like Lily Potter. (How Harry could see this from so far away, he wasn't sure, but they seemed to shine and glow like most of the being's eyes that he'd seen so far).

Her clothes on the other hand were more than exotic. Different shades of green and bronze and silver (which reminded Harry terribly of Slytherin) decorated her corset, which seemed so finely made that it would shatter into a million pieces at any second. Her skirt was see-through filmy green which Harry _swore_ had a life of it's own, because it kept moving even though the woman didn't. Fortunately for Harry's virgin eyes, she was wearing a pair of not-so-see-through pants underneath the dress which fell in shimmering folds around her legs, leaving nothing to the imagination. On her feet were woven metal sandals which glinted in the light. (Harry had, by now, picked up the crucial theme of light throughout the castle and its inhabitants, as well as their penchant for fine metals and crystals).

Petunia was moving forward and it obscured Harry's view slightly, which broke the spell. He blinked and straightened, but before he could duck his head and pretend he wasn't staring, the woman was back in view. His eyes riveted on her sparkling necklace which dropped to a V near her breasts. Blushing, he quickly looked elsewhere.

Fortunately, Petunia moved into his line of sight again, her head turned slightly to glare angrily at Harry for not following her. He quickly jerked into movement, following behind his aunt closer to the two beings. Instead of allowing himself to be taken in by the glittering female again, Harry turned his attention to her male counterpart. While he was also beautiful, he held a certain masculinity that clearly screamed 'male' at anyone who looked. A broader chest and shoulders and a much firmer jaw for starters. He wasn't decorated in metal, but had a simple circlet on his brow (well, it had a bit of a pattern to it which was distinctly Celtic in nature, as far as Harry could tell). His hair was blond and his eyes also green. No jewellery for him, but he did have on a rather nifty cloak. Otherwise he was dressed exactly the same way as their escorts, but in much finer cloth - a hardened jerkin over a filmy tunic and the same kind of pants his female companion wore, with a waistband and more fabric draped between his legs. He wore some really neat boots (according to Harry) which went up to mid calf and looked supple and soft and were also green.

Harry rightly guessed that green was the 'in' colour at the moment.

Then, he was broken out of his observations when Petunia sank to the floor in an imitation of a deep curtsy (Aunt Petunia was, of course, not wearing the proper sort of dress one is supposed to wear when curtsying like that, but she made do). Remembering what he had been told, but pretty sure that his aunt didn't mean for him to _curtsy_, Harry dropped to one knee and bowed his head, imitating the two scouts who had lowered a second before him. Then, he almost made the grave mistake of raising his head, but managed to see out of the corner of his eye that no one else had moved, so tried to stay perfectly still.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but it was long enough for sweat to start beading at his neck and trickle down his back. His legs were just about to cramp when the female (the Queen, Harry could only assume by now) spoke a few words. His muscles tensed, but he didn't move, waiting to see if everyone else moved first.

Harry's judgement had been sound. No one had moved. Once again, his survival skills had reared their head.

The male (the King?) now said something and there was a muffled reply from the two escorts.

Harry kept waiting, and as he waited, he thought. He thought about everything that had happened so far and wondered why he wasn't more startled or scared. He guessed that maybe he'd gotten over being surprised by these sorts of things a long time ago, or at least, he was able to hide it better. He thought also about the strange way his aunt was acting and what it could mean. His mind came up with wild idea after wild idea, and they were all dismissed as being absurd...but even so, Harry couldn't help but shudder at the implications of some of them - if they, by some slim chance, were actually true…

The King and the escorts continued to exchange words, and in order to clear his mind, Harry focused on their speech.

The language really _was_ beautiful...but there was something about it that had Harry's hackles raised by now. Something strange. He couldn't quite work out what it was, but it made him uneasy. He hadn't noticed it before, but after having listened to it some more, there was definitely something there that just struck him as_wrong_ in his mind. He was reminded of those times when he had an instant of deja vu, as if the scene had happened before and he was simply re-acting it. But that was a ridiculous thought of course, since he'd never imagined anything like this before - ever!

Suddenly, the Queen spoke.

"_Taswafáne-aránelle._"

Aunt Petunia's head jerked up and Harry gave a start at the sudden movement.

The Queen spoke again and Petunia tensed visibly. After another lengthy monologue on the part of the Queen, Harry's aunt was clearly angry and distressed. Still, she managed to look cold and scornful, even from her bowed position.

"I'm happier than I ever was here," she finally spoke into a heavy silence, and Harry had to wonder just what on earth they were talking about. He felt like he should know, he really did. After all, Aunt Petunia knew!

But...how?

The Queen sounded angry when she finally replied.

"My apologies," Petunia said stiffly, "I have been like this for more than two decades, it is too difficult."

Been like what? Harry wondered.

"It cannot form the proper sounds," she said again in response to something else.

The King interrupted this time, dismissing the two guides. They rose and walked out silently. Harry debated rising as well, but Petunia hadn't told him to yet or made any gestures, so he kept still, his legs now really cramping. He gritted his teeth and told himself it was nothing compared to the Cruciatus.

When the guides had left the room and shut the door behind them, Petunia finally rose. Harry glanced at his aunt out of the corner of his eye and noticed she was making little rising motions with her fingers. He rose stiffly, but didn't look up enough to stare either monarch in the eye. He didn't think that was a good idea.

There was perhaps a minute of silence before Petunia finally asked, "So who told you to come searching?"

The Queen leaned forward eagerly, gesturing at Harry, and said something excitedly. Petunia didn't respond to this so the Queen tried again.

"Harry, lift your head," Aunt Petunia ordered quietly and with a hint of regret.

Harry dutifully raised his head so his face was no longer shielded by the shadow of his hair. The Queen was staring right at him and when his eyes met hers, she smiled.

Harry couldn't repress the shiver. There was something about that smile that reminded him of a satisfied cat - the kind that had just successfully brought down a bird and was proud of its kill. Harry felt like that bird.

"_Indilaira_," she breathed out.

Petunia jerked. So did Harry. Something about that word struck a cord deep within him. But the worst part was that it shouldn't have. He sucked in a deep breath.

The King leaned over and whispered something to his wife and the Queen nodded. She turned and gestured to Petunia, clearly a dismissal. Aunt Petunia clenched her jaw and shook her head.

"No, not yet. At least let me explain some things to him. He doesn't speak a word of _Elwýnllambe, _he'll be completely lost." Petunia's voice was pleading.

Harry wondered if _Elwýnllambe _was the language everyone at this place was speaking. If so, Aunt Petunia was right, he was completely lost.

The King and Queen debated over the request for a moment before they agreed - if the relieved sagging of Petunia's shoulders and her "Thank you, _Tar'__Allàwhta_ and _Tar'Thalyón_" was anything to go by.

"Come along Harry," said Aunt Petunia to him. She reached out and griped his wrist loosely, pulling him along behind her and leaving the King and Queen on their thrones. "I'm to take you to your room, and while we walk I need to explain a few things to you."

They passed through the doors quickly enough and right into a crowd of curious onlookers. Petunia threaded her way through them, ignoring their excited jabbering and acute fear of being touched by both herself and Harry. He found this a little strange, but useful, as they scattered in his aunt's wake, leaving a wide path for them to walk through. He glanced at her expression, searching for the murderous look that was surely plastered across her face.

None.

Harry concluded that these beings were simply bonkers.

Once they were in less crowded halls, Harry disengaged his wrist and asked a question that had been burning on the tip of his tongue ever since they'd left the throne room (mind, there were _so many_ questions that this one was only the tip of the iceberg).

"What's Indillayrah?"

Petunia's lips thinned.

Harry tried again. "Please? I-I don't know why, but it's familiar. I think I've heard it before."

She still didn't say anything, but her expression paled.

They started heading up wards, taking stairs and going up what could only be towers.

"Aunt Petunia! You said you'd explain!"

Petunia stopped walking for a moment and turned on Harry with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I know," she whispered, "but I don't want to. I've been running from this for twenty years, and I'd all but forgotten it and...and now _this_!" She waved her hands around, gesturing at the splendour around her as if it was causing her very existence to crumble.

Harry was silent after this, not knowing if there anything he could say to offer comfort, or even if he should say anything at all. Aunt Petunia began walking again and silence persisted until they arrived at a guarded door.

As soon as they appeared to be heading towards the ornately decorated door (it reminded Harry of a smaller version of the throne room door), the guards stood to attention and crossed their long spears to block the way. When Aunt Petunia kept going and walked right up to them, one of the guards said something, to which Aunt Petunia responded with a few words that Harry recognised. They were the words that the Queen had spoken to his aunt when she was first addressed - _Taswafáne-aránelle_.

These seemed to be the magic words, because the guards' eyes widened and they immediately lowered their spears, staring at Aunt Petunia in wonder.

The guard on the left repeated the words in a question, to which Aunt Petunia nodded 'yes'. Both guards stared some more.

"Well?" Petunia finally snapped impatiently. The guards quickly pulled open the doors, looking embarrassed. They watched Harry curiously as he passed through, following his aunt. He felt their gaze on his back before the doors closed as well.

"We're safe to talk," Aunt Petunia broke the silence. Harry quickly caught up to her and watched her eagerly, waiting for her to speak and explain what was going on.

"I suppose I should start off with where we are, shouldn't I?" She asked rhetorically. "We're in the kingdom of _Elwýn,_home to the _Elwý, _or what you would otherwise call 'Elves'.

"Elves?" Harry gasped, though really he wasn't all that surprised. "You don't mean like House Elves do you?"

He pictured Dobby in his head in all his tea-towel glory and decided that had been a stupid question.

Petunia stared at him blankly.

Harry clarified. "Um, small, elf-like creatures with big ears and large eyes who are bonded to wizards as slaves-"

"Absolutely not!" Aunt Petunia interrupted with a screech, clearly aghast. "Don't ever, and I mean _ever_, insinuate such a thing again, especially not in front of the _Elwý _or you won't like the consequences."

"Sorry, sorry!" Harry said quickly, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace.

Aunt Petunia snorted. Suddenly, she stopped walking and Harry almost crashed into her. She was standing in front of a pair of beautiful doors, just like the ones outside the hall, though with only a few small veins of gold covering part of the doors, not the whole thing.

"This should be it," she sighed, twisting her head to glance over her shoulder briefly, an unreadable look on her face. Harry turned around, only to be faced with a similar door, but this one decorated in silver instead of gold.

"Your new room," Petunia announced, opening the doors and pushing them wide. "A room fit for a prince." She laughed derisively.

Harry stared.

The room was...there was no way to take everything in at once. Everything but the walls was made of the same white wood as the doors with weaves of gold and crystal lights, so the whole room glittered. There were large stone arches that led out onto a balcony. Filmy green and white curtains blew gently, which draped over and between the windows and the archways. Soft white fur rugs decorated the floor. The colour theme seemed to be green, white and gold, because that's what colour the bed-spread and hangings were, along with the mosaics on the walls and the heavier curtains separating one last arch. Harry assumed it led into a bathroom.

He stopped admiring the room when Petunia shut the doors firmly behind her and sat down on one of the strange, Greek-like couches. Almost like a chaise.

"Sit down." She gestured to another couch. "You'll need to with what I'm about to tell you."

Harry sat.

Petunia cleared her throat. "Where to start? I suppose I could let you ask the questions."

Harry had to squash the anticipation that was welling in his chest and tried to think of his most pressing question first.

"Indillayrah? What is…?" He finally asked.

Petunia's mouth twisted.

Harry waited with bated breath, somehow feeling that the answer to this question would be the answer to them all. Finally, Aunt Petunia spoke.

"A better way to ask that would be 'who'. _Who_ is _Indilaira_?"

Harry blinked. So _Indilaira_ was a person? Why wasn't he more surprised by this? Had he somehow known?

"All right," he said, "Who is she?"

Petunia looked up sharply. "How did you know it was a woman?"

Harry froze. How indeed. "I-I don't know. It sounded…?"

"And how," Petunia demanded, "would you know what's supposed to sound female and what's supposed to sound male?"

Feeling cornered and oh-so-very uncertain, Harry snapped back. "How would_you_ know?"

Aunt Petunia sighed warily, "There's no way to put this gently." She paused and waited for Harry to absorb this, process it and act accordingly. He blinked. "I am from _Elwýn_."

Aunt Petunia didn't have to wait long for Harry's reaction. First there was confusion, then, as all the nuts and bolts began to click into place, understanding dawned and he gave a strangled yelp.

"W-what?" He stuttered.

"I am_Elwý._"

"B-but..." Harry stopped and swallowed. "Th-that's not possible. Y-you're human. Like me, like mum!"

Petunia closed her eyes, clearly pained. "I am not human, however much I wish I were."

"Impossible," whispered Harry, "you look nothing like...and Mum..."

"I am wearing a potion-created 'skin' and Harry..." For once Petunia was speaking softly to him, for once she was using his name and trying to comfort him. Too bad it at the same time that she was revealing truths that were shattering Harry's world and perceptions. "Harry...Lily was _Elwý_ too."

Harry worked his jaw uselessly, trying to understand what Petunia was inferring. Did that mean...did that mean he wasn't human either? No, it couldn't! Harry looked down at his hands, felt his face and his hair and his ears. No, Harry Potter was one hundred percent human, that was for sure.

There was just simply no way! He clutched at his perfectly human ears and stared blankly at his aunt.

"That won't prove anything," Aunt Petunia said, gesturing at his body as he checked himself over. "Lily would have made sure you were wearing a skin too. Or you might have been born into it, which is more likely." She frowned and peered at him. "I wonder if it's permanent. You could truly be human for all intents and purposes."

"Huh?"

Harry's aunt was smiling now. "This could save us!" She exclaimed. "They might not want you like this!"

"What? Who might not want me? Let me go? Aunt Petunia, I don't understand!" Harry felt a headache coming on - one of those panic induced headaches that came with great stress and shock. However, one crucial thing that his aunt was saying did get through to him, and that was that he might be human after all. Harry latched onto this piece of information and clung to it like a dying man a piece of driftwood lost at sea.

"The King and Queen of course," she responded.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, shocked. "Why would they want me?"

"Well, you are Lily's only son."

"Well yeah, but is it because I might be part Elwuhye?" The word was somewhat strange on his tongue and he knew immediately that he hadn't pronounced it correctly.

"Part?" Petunia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry blanched. "O-of course! My dad was James Potter, a wizard!" His voice was desperate, begging his aunt not to reveal anything worse.

James Potter had to be his father, he simply _had_ to. If Harry got told that the one man he had always thought of as his father was truly not, then...well, he didn't know what he'd do!

What Petunia said next wasn't exactly what Harry was dreading, but it was bad enough.

"Don't be stupid! If Lily was _Elwý_, then so was James!"

"I-I-I'm..." He trailed off miserably, shocked worse than before. How was that even possible? Everyone talked about the Potters being such a well-known pureblood family of wizards, how could they possibly be elves? Even Sirius had said he'd known James all his life! Suddenly thinking of Sirius sent a pang of hurt straight to his heart and Harry focused on the imminent situation at hand.

"So they want me because I'm...I'm an _ELF??_" Harry finally managed, mildly hysterical, trying and not succeeding in imagining himself looking like the elven beings from earlier.

His aunt nodded her head.

"So-so why don't they want you as well?" He asked faintly, mind whirring at a mile a minute trying to piece everything together and ask the right questions.

"I was exiled," she responded simply.

"What?" Harry asked, shocked, and wondering how many more times he could be shocked in one day. (He reckoned with his rather unfortunate luck, a few more times at least).

"I was exiled to the mortal realm for marrying a human," Petunia explained.

Harry's eyes widened. "I-I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Petunia snapped, "I planned it that way. I wanted away from this horrid place."

Harry looked around him at the beauty and splendour and wondered if his aunt was crazy, or at least severely delusional. Then again, for someone married to the likes of Vernon Dursley, Harry wouldn't put it past his aunt to be somewhat insane.

Suddenly he paled, something having just occurred to him.

"Is...is...Dudley...?" He asked faintly, already green at the thought.

"Half," Petunia confirmed.

Harry wanted to throw up. The thought of Dudley as...as...the image was _not_ a pleasant one.

"Yuck," he muttered. Fortunately, Petunia didn't hear or Harry might have been screeched at.

"Don't worry," said Petunia, "they won't come after Dudley. He's been _tainted_ with human blood." She said the word sarcastically. "Although it is more than likely that the non-magical human blood negated most, if not all of his _Elwýn_ heritage, so he should never have a problem." She sounded relieved at this thought. Harry personally thought that maybe acquiring some magic might do the bullying boy some good. He would gain a whole new perspective on life...not to mention Harry would then be the one lording over Dudley and not the other way around.

Just then, he remembered his very first question.

"Who is_Indilaira_?" He asked solemnly, somehow knowing he wouldn't like the answer, but fortunately pronouncing it properly.

Aunt Petunia paused, equally solemn, before responding. "Lily."

And somehow Harry had known.

"I-I knew that," he whispered, feeling sick again, because he _shouldn't_have known that. If everything Petunia was saying was a lie, or a delusion, or some stupid joke, then Harry _should not have known that_. Some fundamental part of his hastily constructed denial came tumbling down.

"And you," he continued, barely noticing his aunt's pinched face, "you must be _Taswafáne-aránelle._"

Petunia's face grew alarmed. Suddenly she looked around, as if expecting someone to pop out of the corners of the room, before leaning forward and staring Harry straight in the eye.

"Repeat exactly what I'm about to say to you back to me, all right?"

Harry nodded.

Aunt Petunia spoke carefully, enunciating each syllable so that Harry could hear them, although somehow her speech lacked the particular lilt that the rest of the elves' had had. Still, he dutifully listened and tried his best to repeat the phrase, whatever it was. Surprisingly enough, he didn't have as much trouble with it as he thought he might. It came out almost naturally.

"Wha?" He frowned.

Aunt Petunia sighed and rubbed her temples.

"I was afraid of this," she murmured.

"Afraid of what?" Harry demanded, feeling his panic start to creep back again.

"I'm afraid that you'll find picking up the elven language - _Elwýnllambe_ - extremely easy."

"I don't get it."

Petunia glared at him. "It's like this; Lily and James were both elves, thus, it is highly likely that they spoke _Elwýnllambe_ with you as a child. Now, because an elf's brain is more developed than a human's-"

Harry interrupted her here with an exclaimed "What!" of indignation.

"Shut up!" Petunia snapped. "I didn't mean humans are stupider, just that an elf has more power over their mind by instinct, whereas humans use considerably less of their true brain power. Now, because an elf is like this, they are able to learn and develop much more quickly as children. We also remember much more, from much younger ages, and with much more clarity." She paused, allowing Harry to take all this in.

And take it in he did. Everything was ringing a bell with him. He'd always had such vivid childhood memories of the Dursleys, although he'd always just assumed that was because they had been somewhat unforgettable, to put it mildly. And then he remembered having those dreams about the day his parents died, and remembering Hagrid flying him on Sirius' motorbike (he ignored the pang this thought brought).

Harry swallowed, feeling closer and closer to a possible melt down.

"S-so...Mum and Dad spoke to me in…?"

Petunia nodded stiffly.

"Oh." Harry's voice was small.

"This is bad," Petunia said, "it means that the likelihood of you being simply human is almost all but ruled out, but we might still be able to use that argument. So, whatever you do, don't let on that you know more than you do. They'll start teaching you, but pretend you don't understand, okay?"

Harry nodded solemnly, mind frantically latching onto that one word -_almost_. Aunt Petunia had said _almost all, _not_completely_. In Harry's books that meant there was still a chance - still a chance that this was all just some silly dream, or that the elves had the wrong Harry Potter. (This thought was perhaps more absurd than any previous ones, but Harry's mind wasn't really making much sense at this point).

He opened his mouth to ask some more questions, but before he could the door opened. Two guards stood in the entrance (not the ones from earlier), holding Harry's trunk. They entered the room and placed the slightly beaten looking brown trunk down at the foot of the bed. It looked very out of place.

The two guards made a funny sort of bow at Petunia and Harry, as if not quite sure _how_ to bow to two humans, and then said something to Petunia. Her lips thinned and her face tightened.

"Can't I have more time?" She asked.

The guards stared at her blankly.

Petunia sighed and closed her eyes, as if in pain. Slowly, she opened her mouth, and this time the words she spoke were in _Elwýnllambe._ She was clearly annoyed to speak it and she had to enunciate each word carefully again. Harry, all too aware that he knew more than he should, heard the differences in her speech and the speech of the guards.

However, she was clearly understood, because one of the two guards shook his head 'no' and said something. Aunt Petunia stood up.

"Harry," she began, "I'm sorry we don't have more time. They're forcing me out, even though not much time has passed. I promise you I will do all I can to get you out of here. Do what I told you to, don't reveal too much. Try to convince them that you are not what they want." The guards gestured impatiently. Petunia shot them a look and started walking slowly. She looked over her shoulder at Harry. "But whatever you do, do what they tell you. Don't cross them, or the consequences could be bad. Make sure you're still in once piece when I come back to get you." She paused at the door. "For what it's worth, I _am_ sorry Harry. I tried, I really did, and I wouldn't wish this on even you."

She left the room.

The last thing Harry saw or heard of his aunt before he was left alone was a faint "Good luck" floating back through the open door, and then it was shut.

* * *

**AN:** Ok, well, I don't want anyone getting angry that this took so long to come out. If you remember, I _did_ warn everyone that I wouldn't be updating often. And to be frank, come on people, SIX reviews? That's IT? I have 17 alerts for this and over 200 hits, but only 6 reviews? 

_Sighs_

Ok ok, guess I can't expect too much from just the first chapter. Right, I'll stop being disappointed. Sorry.

To those of you who DID review, thank you SO much. It was because of you that I even posted this next chapter :) So thank you, I really appreciated them.

Anyway, the reason this took so long to come out even though I already had it typed was because I completely re-wrote one crucial element of the plot and then decided to go through the rest of the scenes I had written and change those as well. THEN I came back and decided I'd gone a bit overboard with the description. Yes, people, there used to be MORE description. See, I originally had like 4 paragraphs to describe the King and Queen because I actually drew pictures first, THEN wrote the chapter. But then I decided, if you really want to know what she looks like, you can go look at the picture and not have to muddle through 4 paragraphs of badly written chocolate-high induced descriptive prose.

Heh.

So speaking of pictures. I found these absolutely gorgeous architectural pieces on Deviant Art, so if you want to know what the palace looks like, then take this picture of the white tower/castle: http:// snowskadi .deviantart .com/art /White-Tower- 69872081 (remove spaces)

...and stick it's architecture over the setting of THIS scene: http:// snowskadi .deviantart .com/ art/ 234-75403316 (again, remove the spaces)

So have fun with that. Excellent artist with stunning works!

Aaaaanddd, my exceedingly poor attempt at doing the Elf Queen on MY deviant art: http:// hexe-cobalt .deviantart .com I'm sure you can figure out which one is the elf queen. I'm warning you though, it's a work in progress. When I finally get it finished, I'll post the link again in a later chapter so you can all see her in her fully finished glory. I'm completely revamping her face btw. So don't think that's what she looks like.

Eh...yeah...that's about it.

Oh, more reviews please? I know this fic is cliché, it's meant to be, but I also like to think it's decently written and I'd really like some feedback on that. Or you can simply tell me how much you like it (if you tell me how much you DON'T like it, then WHY are you even reading it, let alone reviewing it??) And is it just me, or is this chapter much more serious? I think it is. Oh well.

Ok, I'm done now, honest.

xoxRia


	3. Surprise Number Two

**Chapter 3:**

Harry was at a loss. He had no idea what to do. Aunt Petunia had given him the shock of his life, scared him by alluding to something about this place that was so horrible that she was acting _sorry_ for him, then left him completely and utterly alone with hardly any answers.

He sat on the couch, staring at the door through which she'd left, mind numb. He didn't know for how long he sat there, watching the door blankly, but eventually his mind began to function again, and went straight from no activity, to running a mile a minute. He couldn't believe that Aunt Petunia - his normal-loving, magic-hating muggle aunt - was an otherworldly creature from another dimension. It simply wasn't possible to equate the two beings in Harry's mind. He thought of his mother, of all the pictures he'd seen of her, laughing and smiling. He tried to imagine her already beautiful face on the body of an elf. He couldn't do it, except, suddenly, his mind tried substituting the Queen for her image. They were already so similar...

Harry's eyes widened. He put the two women side by side and wondered at their same hair colour, eye colour and...He got up suddenly and rushed over to his trunk, pulling it open and digging right to the bottom. There, he found the album Hagrid had given him in first year and he quickly pulled it out. Smoothing down the front lovingly, he opened it to one of his favourite pictures of his parents and stared at his mother.

There was no mistaking it, the Queen looked very similar to her. Harry hoped it was simply a coincidence. He couldn't imagine the implications if he was somehow related to the _Queen_.

_I don't need something _else_ singling me out again, _he thought.

Harry shoved the awful thought out of his mind and sat down on the bed, still holding the picture album. He looked at his parents again, and now could easily imagine his mum as an elf.

_Everyone always says I have her eyes_, he thought curiously, staring his mum's bright green eyes in one of the later, colour photos. They were definitely an otherworldly green, now that Harry thought about it. He didn't dare think about the Queen's eyes or how similar they were as well.

But he still couldn't imagine himself as an elf. It simply _wasn't possible_.

Harry shook his head and focused on his father. He flipped through a few pictures, but there was just no was he could see the mischievous and grinning face as an elf. Sort of like himself; his father was just too human.

He flipped to another one to be sure, but this one had all four Marauders in it, including Sirius.

He stared at it, half wanting to scratch out Wormtail from the picture for everything he'd done to screw up Harry's life. He reached up and scrubbed at his eyes, which were prickling at the thought of Sirius and his father, now both dead. Up until that point over the past few days of summer, Harry had been too busy to think about his godfather's demise, but now…

He silently flipped to a different page. This one with only his mum and dad. He pushed his mind back on topic: how his father could possibly be an elf.

How on earth did that work anyhow? Harry thought furiously about everything he'd ever been told about the Potters - how they were a prominent, pureblood Light family and were as well known as the Malfoys.

He just didn't understand how his father could suddenly enter the picture and not have it questioned or have everyone know he wasn't _really_ James Potter. His mum had been muggleborn. A muggleborn's past could easily be faked, but a pureblood's? It simply wasn't possible.

"Aunt Petunia was wrong," Harry said out loud, just to make the words seem more real and convincing. _And I am not in denial_, he finished silently, when one part of him tried to point out all the convincing evidence to the contrary.

Suddenly determined not to think about such things for any longer, Harry shut his album and set it aside on the bed. He got up and began exploring the room, prepared to wait until he saw someone so he could explain their mistake.

First he headed to the covered archway, intent on seeing whether or not it really was a bathroom (Harry would bet all the galleons in his vault that it was). Indeed, if Harry had actually bet, he would have been twice as rich. As it was, the bathroom was definitely different.

There was a large tub sunk into the floor, although saying it was a part of the floor and had simply been carved there was probably more appropriate. There was a single, golden faucet but no knobs, and Harry wondered how one turned it on. There were also, much to his shock, large windows lining the outside wall. They let the light in, but also left anyone in the bathroom completely visible. There were some see-through curtains strung up, but they were more for aesthetic decoration than actually covering the windows.

Harry was taken aback by this set up and skirted around the tub to peer out the windows.

Then again, he thought, it wasn't like anyone could ever see through the windows. They were obviously in a rather large and high tower. There were other, beautiful, shining white towers in the distance, which also seemed part of the castle, and the only ones higher than the tower he was in himself were either on the opposite end of the castle or out of sight. He guessed, then, that it wouldn't matter if the bath itself was on an open ledge, because no one would be seeing him any time soon.

Harry retreated from the glass and went back to the middle of the bathroom. There was a large mirror in an intricate wooden frame set against one wall and he stared at his reflection in it for a second. He'd completely forgotten he was still in his pyjamas. He peered closer. His hair was also a mess and he looked like he needed a bit of a shower.

Blushing in embarrassment at being seen by all those elves (and the _King _and_ Queen_) in such a state, Harry decided that now would be an opportune time to figure out how the bath worked.

He stepped over to the tap and crouched down over it, searching for any hidden knobs or buttons. He didn't find any, so tried seeing if the tap itself was a knob. This wasn't so, because as soon as Harry placed his hand on the tap, it began to heat alarmingly underneath his hand. Jumping in surprise, he wrenched his hand back and stared at the tap like it had suddenly sprouted wings and taken off.

Trying again, Harry hesitantly touched the tap and felt it heat under his finger tips again. He kept his fingers there, even when the tap began to heat up almost unbearably, but was scared out of an inch of his life when steaming water gushed from the spout in one big rush. He yanked his hand back, but the water kept coming.

_It's like one of those tap lamps_, he thought dazedly.

He watched the running water for a brief moment, before leaving the bathroom to go search in his trunk for some appropriate clothes he could wear.

Unfortunately for Harry, the only things that weren't either overly large or so worn with use that they were looking a little sad, were his dress robes and school uniform. He didn't think wearing dress robes was entirely appropriate, so that left him with his school uniform.

Maybe if he discarded the robe part, and just wore the shirt and trousers?

It wasn't the best choice, and completely different from what any of the elves Harry had seen had been wearing, but it was better than nothing.

He took the clothes with him into the bathroom; just in case someone walked in when he was changing, at least he'd have warning and be hidden from view. He set the shirt and trousers, as well as a clean pair of boxers that he'd grabbed, on a wicker-like stool and began searching for towels.

The most obvious place was the tall, but slim, wooden door set into the wall, which, when opened, revealed a sort of linen closet. It had stacks of towels and smaller hand cloths, as well as some other things that Harry could only assume one used to wash oneself with. He took all of them, including the coloured glass bottles.

Setting them all down at the edge of the still filling tub, he unstopped one of the bottles and smelled the liquid. It smelled of some vague fragrance, but nothing overpowering. The other bottles all had different scents, but they were incredibly faint and not at all sweet or sickly. Harry decided they had to be some sort of shampoo equivalent.

Next, came the challenge of turning off the water. It was getting dangerously high. Harry reached over and touched the tap, hoping the water would stop, and to his surprise, it did just that.

_Convenient_, he mused.

He washed himself quickly but thoroughly, nervous that any second someone would walk into his room and come investigate. No one did, fortunately, but Harry was in and out of the water in ten minutes, clean, and with his hair smelling a lot nicer (thanks to one of those bottles' scents).

He dressed just as fast and then rinsed his mouth out for lack of any toothpaste or toothbrush, which he'd left back in the Dursley's bathroom. Harry found this quite inconvenient. But, he did find a wooden brush in the closet and tried to use it to brush his hair into some semblance of order, which failed of course. It insisted on sticking up like a bird's nest.

Glaring at his hair just for good measure (and secretly hoping that his glare o' doom would encourage it to lay flatter, which it didn't), Harry transferred his wand from his pyjama pocket to his trouser pocket, and felt a lot more ready to face whoever came through the door next.

Apparently, Harry needn't have hurried, because after five minutes of waiting nervously on the couch, still no one appeared. Feeling annoyed and wondering if he was going to be left in his room for the rest of the day, he got up and wandered over to the open balcony.

The breeze was slightly stronger outside, but the air was pleasantly warm, a far cry from England. Harry stood at the railing (made out of that strange marble of course) and looked more closely at the castle.

That was the first thing. He would have to stop calling it a castle, because it was obviously not a _real_ castle. A real castle would be made out of stones and have battlements and maybe a moat for good measure. No, the word 'palace' seemed much more appropriate for this place, because it was far more decadent than any castle could ever be.

The whole thing was sprawling, large enough to house a city and five times larger than Hogwarts. From what he could tell, the palace was on a hill of some sorts, because there was a large and ornate bridge between the section of palace he was in and the section that he could see in the distance on a lower hill. He wondered if this smaller building was really part of the palace proper, and then wondered further if the place could actually house an entire city. Or, perhaps the city was simply connected to the palace?

Harry didn't think on it any more, choosing instead to marvel at how one day he'd gone from dreary muggle England, to some fanciful dimension he hadn't even known existed. It was utterly surreal.

Harry's eyes widened.

"That's it!" He exclaimed out loud. "I must be dreaming!"

He hadn't questioned it before, but he had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation. No matter how real all this seemed, it just couldn't be true.

He laughed slightly. Really, Aunt Petunia acting nice? Him, an elf? James Potter an elf?

He certainly had a fanciful imagination to come up with all this.

Chuckling to himself at the absurdity of it all, Harry went back inside and flopped down on the bed, closing his eyes, waiting to wake up. After a few minutes, he began to feel sleepy and attributed this to how he was feeling in the real world..and that perhaps he'd wake up soon.

No such luck.

Harry heard the footsteps just in time to sit up, wide-eyed, and watch as the door swung open.

The first to walk in was the King, followed shortly by the Queen and an older looking elf with slightly silvery hair. Harry scrambled from the bed, thinking, _Oh no, what do I do? What do I say?_ and wondering if he was supposed to bow again.

Deciding it was better safe than sorry, Harry quickly dropped to one knee in an imitation of the bow he'd done before.

The King said something.

"Rise," came an older voice, melodious and with a mild accent of something-or-other.

Harry got cautiously to his feet. He saw that the King and Queen had seated themselves on one of the couches. The King nodded at him and gestured to the other couch, saying something that could only mean 'sit down'. So, he didn't even need the older elf's translation of "please be seated" and was already sitting down. He then fidgeted nervously under the couple's scrutinising and frantically searched for a reason why the _King _and _Queen_ had come to see him again.

Surely…

No. Lily had _not_ been related to the Queen. It was a simply ridiculous notion.

They sat in silence for a while as the royal couple studied him. Finally, it was the Queen who spoke first.

"You are looking more presentable," translated the elf, standing somewhat behind the couch to the right.

Harry blinked at this.

"Er, thanks?" He ventured, then mentally hit himself for sounding so stupid in front of a king and queen - not to mention probably rude.

The translator didn't say anything, so Harry assumed that the two could understand English, but just didn't speak it (which he thought was odd).

The King spoke next, gesturing at the translator. Harry eyed him as he spoke.

"This _Elwý_ here will be your translator and language tutor. You will learn _Elwýnllambe _as a top priority."

Harry gaped.

"We will also send up a tailor after we leave to take your measurements for some decent clothes. Tomorrow you will begin lessons."

Harry gaped some more.

"W-wait!" He spluttered, forgetting he was speaking to royalty for a moment. The Queen and King gave him sharp looks. "Er, your majesties," he added hastily, "I think you have the wrong person!"

The Queen gave a quiet, tinkling laugh that clearly displayed her incredulousness at this suggestion.

"No really," Harry tried again, desperately, "I'm just Harry Potter. Even if my mum _was_ an elf, er Elwuhye," here Harry made carefully sure that he mispronounced the word, just to get his point across, "my dad was definitely a wizard! He was a Potter! And Aunt Petunia said I was probably born like this, so I'm also definitely a wizard too."

Harry watched the couple's reactions after this and wasn't disappointed when the Queen and King exchanged frowning looks and murmured quietly to each other. He didn't get a translation for this, so was only left guessing as to what they were saying.

The Queen faced him again. "There is no way you cannot be _Elwý_, and we will find a solution to your appearance as soon as possible. Do not worry."

Harry almost laughed at this. Worry? He wasn't worried about being human, he was worried about being an _elf_! However, he didn't say this out loud, feeling that the monarchs might find it a bit insulting.

"And Harry Potter," his name said with a strange accent, "is not your real name. Your real name is _Araëmel_. _Araëmel_-_aryón_." The translator had to pause and think on this for a bit before he could come up with an appropriate translation. "Crown Prince Araëmel."

Harry heard the words 'Crown Prince'. They went in one ear and registered in his brain, but it took a moment for him to remember how to work his mouth and for him to spit out a, "W-what?"

Oh no, no no! This wasn't happening! Not more surprises. Wait..._Crown_ Prince?

Did that mean what Harry thought it meant? That he was the _heir_?

He paled.

He had enough on his plate as it was! He didn't need to add 'being heir to a alternate-dimensional race of beautiful elfin beings' to the list.

Harry dearly wished he had a wall to bang his head on. Or maybe he should waltz up to Voldemort's lair and say, "Kill me now please and save me the trouble."

"Araëmel," repeated the translator, as if he had stuttered because of his real name and not the title.

"Not that," Harry said faintly. "The Crown Prince part. That's a joke right?"

"We do not joke," the Queen said sharply and even though the translator didn't translate that, Harry knew exactly what she was saying - her tone of voice said what her mostly incomprehensible words didn't. Then again, Harry found himself picking out familiar words that had repeated several times from her sentences and associating them with particular images and emotions in his head. It was a strange sort of understanding, and it made Harry nervous and upset. Everything was going to the dogs, and right smack in the middle of the dog pile was Harry Potter.

"You are Crown Prince Araëmel. Your mother was our daughter. You are our grandson." The Queen spoke again after a moment, and this time the translator interpreted.

Grandson? Harry stared blankly. That couldn't be possible, they didn't look a year over thirty!

"Grandmother? Grandfather?" Harry said sceptically, looking from one elf to the other in amazement.

Suddenly the reality of that statement sunk in. Wait...he had...family?

_Family...Grandparents…_

The words echoed in his head, negating all other thoughts.

"Yes," said the King, "we are your grandparents."

Harry blinked.

"Really? But you're so _young_," he breathed, beginning to feel more like this really _was_ a dream - a _nice_ dream. A nice dream where Harry had family and he was a handsome, beloved prince and he no longer had to deal with the harsh realities of the wizarding world. Yes, everything made sense. It was just a really long, very surreal dream...

The Queen made an exasperated noise.

Harry peered at her, at her uncanny resemblance to his mother, and couldn't stop the happy sort of grin that twitched at his lips. He had _grandparents_! Never mind that they were the King and Queen of a completely different race, Harry could ignore that. In fact, that was probably why they looked so young in the first place.

"Wait, so that makes Aunt Petunia your daughter as well right?" He asked.

"Yes, though she has been exiled for her impure acts," the King told him gravely.

_That's a bit harsh, isn't it?_ Harry wanted to say, but remembered how formal his aunt had been towards her own parents, and swallowed his tongue, stopping the words.

The Queen stood up, the King following. Harry hastily did so as well. Giving him a tight smile, the Queen told him that they would send the tailor up immediately, and that the translator would stay with him and be at his beck and call, as well as begin to tutor him at all available opportunities.

Harry stood awkwardly as they left, feeling completely overwhelmed and like his life was slowly spiralling out of his control. Fate really hated him.

But, Grandparents!

Harry smiled again.

The translator cleared his throat.

"I am Quenahgóla, my prince. We must start lessons immediately."

Slowly, Harry sat back down as Quenahgóla (what a mouthful!) sat down in the seat previously vacated by the royals.

For the next fifteen minutes, Quenah (as Harry had decided to call him in his head) managed to drill in seven different ways of greeting and farewells, as well as the correct pronunciation of all the words he had been "butchering" up till then. Harry had a secret laugh at this one, although, when Quenah told Harry that, due to the human physiology, he would be unable to make certain sounds in his throat and would have to make do with trying to imitate them as best he could, he was mildly disappointed. Then again, it was a small price to pay for being human. By the time there was a knock at the door, Harry had picked up far more than he gave any indication of knowing, and while this scared him slightly, he also felt a deep satisfaction at succeeding at doing something perhaps better than Hermione for once.

The tailor, he found, was a smaller elf woman (though she was still as tall as Harry, if not taller) who was carrying a large wooden box and several rolls of vellum. She bowed to Harry, then did a double take and almost dropped her box and parchment, gaping at his obviously human appearance in confusion. She said something to Quenah (Harry heard the word for human), who then replied back, which seemed to ease the elf and she relaxed and bowed again, muttering the words _"Araëmel-aryón"_ at him.

She then set up on the small table in the corner of the room and pulled a footstool out of nowhere for him to stand on (leaving him to wonder at where it had come from). She was respectful to him at random intervals, which unnerved him, but at the same time it seemed she couldn't quite meet his eyes. He thought back to when the other elves had made a point of getting out of his and Aunt Petunia's way outside the throne room, then the way Petunia had talked of being exiled because she had married a human, and came to the conclusion that for some reason humans were disliked or feared.

Harry suffered through the measuring and testing of different scraps of coloured fabrics and metals against his skin, eyes, and hair. Except his suffering was doubled when Quenah insisted on explaining the beginnings of _Elwýnllambe _grammar to him. He had Harry confused within the first few sentences - or at least, that's what Harry let Quenah think. To be truthful, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the grammar. It was at times so completely different from English grammar that it left him wondering how people could understand it, but at the same time, some things just seemed so _familiar_.

Harry tried not to let his nervousness show.

After the tailor left, he stopped Quenah from speaking - not knowing how much longer he could go without blurting out something in a panic - by telling him that he had lost Harry about ten minutes ago, and that he had no idea what the elf was talking about.

"My apologies Araëmel-aryón, I see that I am inadequately explaining our language to you. Perhaps I should relate it to English first," Quenah apologised profusely.

Harry sighed, seeing no way out of language lessons. But at least they could do this properly. "Hold on, let me get some paper. Might as well write stuff down so I don't forget."

"An excellent idea, your highness!" Cried Quenah.

Harry tried to ignore the extra forms of address everyone seemed to insist on adding to their sentences and his new elvish name, and went to get some parchment, quill and ink.

"How quaint!" Quenah exclaimed over the quill and ink. Harry remembered the metal fountain pen that the tailor had used to write with and decided he agreed with the elf over the wizarding world's outdated use of writing instruments.

For what seemed like the next three to four hours, Harry was taught the inner workings of the language of the elves. For everything the Quenah had him write down, Harry had to do oral practise, and this was probably the most embarrassing part - not to mention difficult. Sometimes Harry would be completely unable to pronounce a word, even if he actually tried, and other times it just embarrassed him to say something wrongly and know he could be doing better if he tried.

After the first hour, his stomach began to protest its lack of breakfast, but he told it to be quiet. However, by lunch time, even Harry, who'd had lots of practise pretending he wasn't hungry, couldn't hide the loud growling of his stomach.

"Oh my!" Gasped Quenah, "You must be hungry, your highness. Sometimes I get so carried away. Well, I appreciate your dedication to the subject, Prince, but perhaps we should adjourned to the lunch room and eat something."

"Er," began Harry.

"Or!" Quenah seemed to be getting increasingly excited about Harry's apparent desire to learn over satisfying his hunger, "We could have food brought to us, and continue our lessons while we eat."

Harry was about to tell him that he would very much prefer to take a break, but Quenah seemed to decide for them. He got up and told Harry to keep practising while he called for lunch, then he left.

Harry slumped at the table and put his head in his hands, groaning. Everything was moving so fast he barely had time to think, and now he was being called "your highness" and "prince" and learning some foreign language whose sounds he could barely pronounce. And yet, supposedly this was his _real_ language and his _real_ home.

Harry begged to differ on this, and half wished he was back at the Dursleys.

Any yet...somehow another smaller part of him was whispering; _Yes, yes it is your language and your people. You know this to be true. Look how easy and familiar everything is. _

"Don't be stupid," he muttered to himself. He was _human_, not _Elwý_! It was as simple as that. All this was just one big dream, or someone had seriously got their facts wrong.

Then again, he couldn't help but feel he was being spoilt and ungrateful. Anyone with half a brain would be happy at these kinds of circumstances. He was in a beautiful room, being treated like royalty - no, he _was_ royalty - and he had grandparents! Not to mention, here he wasn't Harry Potter and didn't have the burden of being the Boy-Who-Lived.

But, he reminded himself, you have the burden of being a prince, and not just any prince, but the Crown Prince!

Yet, most people would kill to be princes and princesses, and surely it couldn't be all that bad. So he had to learn a few things, otherwise he bet he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted. The thought had quite a bit of appeal.

Harry had managed to procure a more pleasant visage by the time Quenah returned, and actually made a show of really paying attention. He needed to learn the language if he ever wanted to communicate with the elves. Plus, he felt he had a duty to learn the language that was supposed to be his from birth - that is, if everyone were to be believed.

A stray thought passed through his mind: maybe he could even impress his grandparents and they'd be happy with him if he worked hard enough.

Harry began to unconsciously write faster and with more concentration, his mind soaking everything in like a sponge.

What must have been a servant brought lunch not long after Quenah came back and there was more gaping at Harry's human-ness. Still, Harry ignored it and managed to mumble a mutated "thank you" in _Elwýnllambe. _Quenah was proud of him.

"Will everyone do that?" He asked Quenah when the servant left.

"Hm? Do what?" Quenah replied, eyeing the lunch and mumbling something about it being far better than what he got in his quarters.

"Look at me like that," said Harry, looking at his own lunch and wondering what half the foods were.

There were a lot of what looked like fruits and vegetables and some slices of what could only be some sort of meat. There was thin bread as well and a block of some sort of cheese-like dairy. He glanced at what Quenah was doing, and to his relief found that the man was placing things on top of a piece of bread and eating it. Nothing strange there. He did the same.

"Of course," Quenah stated. "You look human. Of course people will be wary. You will take some getting used to."

Harry sighed and tried his bread. The meat was slightly salty, but the cheese-stuff was soft and a bit sweet. It was good.

"What's so bad about humans anyway?" He asked.

Quenah looked at him like he had just asked the dumbest possible question he could have.

"What _isn't_ bad?" He responded.

"Uh..."

"Humans are destructive, short lived, brutish, uncivilised, cruel, I could go on. They don't care for their environment or each other and try to constantly wipe each other out."

As Quenah spoke, Harry couldn't actually find anything wrong with what he said, which was very disturbing, but true. Humans _were_ destructive, short-lived, could be brutish (Uncle Vernon was an example of that), uncivilised (Harry thought of Dudley' table manners), and cruel. However, not _all_ humans were like that.

"In all senses of the word, humans are inferior species, and as such should be avoided and be treated cautiously," Quenah concluded.

"Hey! We aren't inferior!" Exclaimed Harry angrily, immediately riled up. Quenah's attitude reminded him of the purebloods' attitude towards muggles and muggleborns.

"Of course _you _aren't, your highness," said Quenah calmly. "You are _Elwý_, even if you look human on the outside."

"Not all humans are like that," Harry continued stubbornly, but Quenah didn't seem to hear him, he was too busy making another half-sandwich. Harry stared at the elf and shook his head in exasperation.

"Let's continue shall we?" Asked Quenah.

With a sigh, Harry nodded.

* * *

**AN:** And the cheesiness and cliched-ness continues. At least it's well-written cheesiness though! XD But sorry for the long wait. So busy. Course essays worth 50 of my final year grade and lots of fun things like that to occupy my time. But you may thank my sister for this chapter, as it was her b'day on the 6th and I decided to post this in honour of her turning 16. Let's all hope she doesn't kill herself driving now, eh?

Anyway, come on, let's have it. I mean, how many of you weren't expecting all that? I'll say it again, this is my own personal guilty pleasure, sort of like that secret stash of chocolate you keep in the drawer and then eat late at night. It's written for me because I wanted something fun and cliched for when I get writers block on other things.

Well, I'm quite sure a lot of things are confusing to you, but don't worry, it's supposed to be that way. Also, I won't say how the elvish words are supposed to be pronounced, since technically, humans aren't supposed to be able to make all the sounds for them anyway. I'll leave it to your imagination, so have fun with that.

Any questions will be addressed next chapter when I have more time. Also, thank you to all that reviewed or fav'd this. I read every single one and they really made my day :)

Please review this as well, and let me know what you think about my writing, plot, etc. It's self-beta'd still so there could be some grammar mistakes or plot holes XD

xoxRia


	4. Lessons

**Chapter 4:**

By the end of the day, Harry was completely fed up with the elvish language, but he had learnt a fair deal. He could now form basic broken sentences with Quenah's help and had a long list of vocabulary he needed to memorise. Of course, none of this negated the fact that no matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't pronounce some of the words properly. Quenah kept telling him "all in good time" and that it would eventually come to him, but Harry wasn't so sure. After all, hadn't Quenah said that human throats were physically incapable of making some of the elvish sounds?

After the older elf had left, he even went so far as to try and practise on his own, without having to worry about appearing too eager or too good. Yet, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't do it.

_It means you're human Harry_, he had to keep reminding himself whenever he got overly frustrated.

Still, he went to bed that night impressed with his progress. He liked to think that Hermione would have been impressed too, and smirked at the thought that he might have done better than her. He then smiled at the thought of his bushy-haired friend being frustrated by the sounds of the language that she wouldn't be able to make, no matter how hard she tried. Laughing slightly, he turned over in his very comfortable bed and tried to sleep.

It took a while, because his mind was so occupied with thoughts of his day, but eventually Harry must have fallen asleep, because he was woken up the next day by Quenah's somewhat monotonous voice telling him it was time to get up. Harry's eyes snapped open and stared at the elf that was leaning over him. He yelped and jerked back, rolling over and falling off the bed on the other side.

"Oww," were his first words to greet the new day.

"My apologies, your highness," said Quenah, "I did not mean to startle you."

Harry privately thought that the elf _must_ have meant to startle him, but wisely didn't say anything as he climbed to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" He asked suspiciously.

"Did you forget your lessons were to begin today, your highness?" Asked Quenah, sounding slightly amused.

"Oh," Harry said, wondering what these supposed lessons were.

"The tailor should have something for you by now as well. Please bathe yourself and I will call for her."

"Wait!" Harry called frantically at Quenah's retreating back. "You don't mean she's going to come into the bathroom is she?"

"No," Quenah said, looking puzzled, "She will wait in here and _I_ will come into the bathroom."

"But," said Harry weakly, but Quenah had already left. "Great..."

Deciding it wasn't too bad, since Quenah was a male, even if a much older one, but not quite human either, Harry got up and shuffled into the bathroom. He peered at his reflection and ran some water to splash on his face to wake himself up a bit more.

Usually at the Dursleys, Harry only got to shower once every few days, so in the mornings he would just wash his face. But it seemed cleanliness was important to elves and they must bathe everyday, so with that in mind, Harry ran the bath and stripped while he waited for it to fill at least half way.

He kept sending nervous glances at the curtain across the archway into his room, but he heard no doors open, or footsteps, so assumed Quenah wasn't going to pop his head through any time soon.

He stopped the water and got in, relishing in the hot water and feeling more rejuvenated. Washing quickly and only rinsing his hair without shampooing it, Harry had a bath in record time. And it seemed that he wasn't a moment too soon when he got out and wrapped a towel around his waist, his other hand running through his hair: Quenah's voice could be heard in the other room, telling the tailor something. Harry heard the words "him" and "please wait" so only assumed that the elf would appear any second.

"Your highness, I brought your clothes," said Quenah as he entered. He was carrying a bundle of silky looking fabrics.

Harry dropped the second towel he was holding and inspected the garment that Quenah was holding up. It was just like all the others he'd seen; a long sleeved tunic-type shirt in a muted shade of green.

"Ok," he said, "I can get dressed on my own thanks." He hoped Quenah would take the hint and leave.

Fortunately he did. He sketched a bow and said, "Of course your highness. I'll be waiting outside."

Harry watched him leave and then made sure he was completely dry before discarding his first towel and laying out the clothes. He found what could only be the undergarments and put them on, over which came a brown pair of pants, similar to the ones the Queen had been wearing. They reminded him of picture's he'd seen of genies. He felt a little foolish in them.

Next came the tunic, which was easy to put on. He also managed the stiffer jerkin easily enough, managing to lace it up with only a bit of trouble. However, it took him a while to figure out that the strange length of stiff cloth with designs on it and the length of filmy fabric hanging from it on two ends was supposed to go around his waist and hang between his legs. This in particular made Harry feel twice as foolish as before.

When he was done he looked in the mirror and stared at his appearance. Clothes made all the difference, because now Harry didn't find it so hard to imagine himself as _Elwý_.

He left the bathroom, spotting the tailor and Quenah seated on the couches. They saw him as well and the tailor immediately jumped to her feet with a curtsy. Harry stopped, not knowing what to do, but she straightened and gestured him over to her magically-appearing footstool. He got on the stool and modelled for her as she muttered comments and asked him to turn right and left.

Throughout the entire exchange, Quenah didn't say a word, and Harry felt fairly proud of himself for understanding enough of what the tailor was saying to be able to follow her instructions.

Then again, he suspected that some of the vocabulary that Quenah had taught him yesterday had been specifically targeted at certain things, such as the instructions the tailor was giving him. Nevertheless, Harry felt a small measure of accomplishment after the tailor left. She had given him two more sets of clothes to wear, and he marvelled at her ability to make so many outfits in only a day and night. He already knew elves had magic, so maybe she had used that, he didn't know.

"Is she making more?" he asked Quenah as they left his room (but not before Harry had grabbed his wand from the bedside table, remembering Moody's paranoia about always having it handy). He searched for somewhere to place his wand, and eventually settled for sticking it between the thing around his waist and his pants. It was a bit awkward, but it would have to do. He made a mental note of asking one of the Order to get him a arm holster as soon as he saw them again.

"No, not yet," replied Quenah, "She's going to wait a bit and measure you again."

Harry didn't know why the tailor might want to measure him again, since he was bound to be the same measurements.

"Where are we going?" He asked instead.

"To breakfast with their majesties."

"Oh," Harry squeaked, not sure he was ready for that, but at the same time a little eager to see his grandparents.

"Shall we go over greetings?" Asked Quenah, sounding slightly sympathetic.

Harry nodded his head eagerly, wanting to impress the two royals, and needing to make sure his memory hadn't run off sometime during the night.

It didn't take long to get to the breakfast room (Harry learned that there were separate rooms for each meal), which was a floor below Harry's. The room itself seemed to be built and placed so that it could completely maximise the early morning sunshine streaming through the open-to-the-elements windows which also glinted off of the gorgeous floral mosaics on the walls. There was a circular table in the middle of the room where the King and Queen were seated, calmly eating and speaking in soft tones to each other. When Harry and Quenah entered, they looked up. He greeted them hesitantly, afraid of messing up, but it seemed to come out just fine.

"_Araëmel_," said the King, a small smile on his lips, "_Did you sleep well?_"

This sentence had been one that Quenah had taught Harry the day before, and even though he had half feared that he wouldn't understand anything, his ears picked up the words perfectly. Unnerved, he managed to croak out a 'yes, thank you' which actually sounded like it was supposed to. The King's smile widened at Harry's obvious comprehension of the language, despite having known none the day before.

"_Come, sit_," spoke the Queen, she nodded as well to Quenah, acknowledging him, "_Your language has improved, I am impressed._"

Quenah translated the last bit for him, but Harry hadn't needed it. Still, he waited for Quenah to finish before he mumbled a thank you.

"_I see you have new clothes,_" the King commented as he passed Harry a small bowl of fruits.

Harry thanked him (again...the word was very useful) for the fruit and his mind rapidly worked through what the King had just said. It took no more than a few seconds and he decided a nod of the head was the best answer.

They ate in silence for a while, until the Queen decided to engage Harry in conversation, something to which Harry had been trying to avoid by keeping his head down.

"_You have lessons today,_" she told him, sipping some sort of sweet wine from a glass goblet.

After Quenah had leaned over and whispered the one unfamiliar word's English meaning to Harry, he was able to deduce that he had lessons that day.

He tried to ask a question of his own, surely it couldn't hurt to show _some_ proficiency. Wracking his brain for the list of question words he'd memorised the night before (but some of which he had forgotten), Harry managed to say, "_What lessons?_" He didn't yet know how to form plurals, but he had picked up the form from when the Queen had spoken.

"_Etiquette, geography, and an introduction to sword fighting, archery and horse riding._"

All those had to be translated for Harry, but after he understood he paled and wondered how on earth he was going to get through all that in one piece. Still, the physical aspects of his day didn't sound too bad, actually, he was quiet interested and growing eager over the prospect...but etiquette? Harry shuddered.

"_Furthermore_," continued the Queen, "_we have been looking into our research on skins and their effects and have our best potions masters and spell crafters searching for an answer to your...problem._"

Harry didn't understand a whole lot of what his grandmother had just said, but one thing in particular did stand out, and that was the word "skins." That was what Aunt Petunia had called her human appearance. Harry's eyes widened at the possible implications. When Quenah had translated everything, Harry's eyes widened even further still. He gulped. They couldn't possibly mean…?

Harry quickly schooled his features, but inside he was frantically panicking. He didn't want them to use him as some sort of potions experiment!

The King turned and said, _"Shall we depart then?"_ to his Queen and they both stood. Harry quickly stood as well, bowing like he knew he should, and rattling off the already-memorised departing phrase. The King chuckled a bit at this and they both exited the room, leaving Harry alone with Quenah.

"You did well," praised Quenah as soon as the door was shut. "Better than I thought."

Harry smiled nervously at this, shrugging and saying, "Yeah, surprised me too. Must do well under pressure."

Quenah nodded at this, taking the excuse as it was.

Harry glanced at him, wondering how fast he could learn the language. The more he could understand them, the better advantage he would have. Maybe he could even find a way to get back to Britain and leave this whole mess behind.

_What about your grandparents?_ His traitorous mind asked.

_They're not _really_ my grandparents_, he tried to convince himself.

_But you want them to be. You want a family._

_I have Aunt Petunia_, Harry grumbled to himself angrily, then even he had to snort at that. His aunt had never treated him like family before and only recently had even voluntarily called him by his first name.

Harry sighed.

_Just don't think about it. _

Thus, Harry Potter's slightly insane mental conversation ended, and he was _not_ in denial, thank you very much. He turned to Quenah.

"Keep teaching me," he ordered the elf.

Quenah's face broke out in a large grin. "With pleasure, your highness."

They spent the rest of breakfast going over what Harry had learned the other day and reinforcing it, then, on the way down to the lower portions of the palace where Harry would be having lessons with an elf who had dedicated their life to etiquette, Quenah began to fill Harry's brain with as many words and phrases as he could think of that might pertain to anything the etiquette teacher could say. It was entirely too much for Harry to remember of course, but Quenah made Harry repeat several of the more important ones over and over again until he was about ready to scream, but definitely had them memorised.

When they walked into the room of their destination, he was feeling a little more confident, but not overly so. This confidence was completely shattered when, as soon as they entered through the door, the teacher - a fair haired elf woman who strongly reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall by her demeanour and facial expression - rose and executed a rather elaborate curtsy and greeting statement that was like nothing Harry knew. Having no idea what to do, he simply stood there uncertainly. When the teacher straightened, she took one look at Harry and immediately pursed her lips in a very McGonagall way and gestured sharply at a chair with the words, "_Sit down._"

Understanding that much, Harry sat down, feeling totally overwhelmed and watched as Quenah took a seat beside him. He shot the elf a desperate look, but Quenah ignored it and smiled encouragingly.

And thus began a lesson that Harry would later liken to being worse than Dolores Umbridge's Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

It was quite obvious from the beginning that Harry had no clue about any sort of elven etiquette, and this seemed to be a personal offence to the teacher because she made a point of speaking fast and using big words and long-winded explanations that even Quenah had trouble translating into English in order to describe the ins and outs of every day elven social interaction. This was the first hour, and poor Quenah spent more time speaking - trying to explain to Harry a lot of the obscure words that simply didn't have a direct translation - than the teacher did.

Harry didn't dare ask questions. The etiquette teacher (whose name Harry never caught and even if he had, probably couldn't pronounce it anyway) was like a woman possessed. She seemed entirely too passionate about the intricacies of the underlying meanings behind certain greetings and forms of speech than was healthy. Again, Harry didn't dare point that out. Instead, he tried to learn as much as he could about elves so he could make fewer mistakes in the future.

After the first half hour, Harry started to notice similarities between elvish society and that of pureblood wizarding England. Mind you, Harry didn't really know all that much about pureblood society in the first place, but from what he did know, it all sounded suspiciously familiar. The elves seemed to place high priority on tradition, ceremony and blood. Most of these things Harry didn't agree with in the least, but he held his tongue and determined to ask Quenah about some of his more pressing questions after class, as the elf seemed much more easy going.

After an hour and a half of endless talking, Harry and Quenah were dismissed, and even Quenah seemed relieved to be leaving.

"That was torture," Harry confided in him after they were a good deal away from the room. He looked over his shoulder, half expecting the demon-teacher to be looming over his shoulder to correct his manner of speech and posture.

"Yes, I agree," said Quenah faintly. "Even _I_ did not know some of that, and I have been around for quite some time."

That piqued Harry's interest.

"How old are you anyway?" he asked.

Quenah raised an eyebrow. "Don't you remember just being told that asking an _Elwý _their age directly is considered bad manners?"

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "So?"

"If you must know," Quenah sighed, "I am over thirty centuries old."

Harry did the math and was left gaping, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Over _three thousand years old_?" He gasped out.

"It is not _that_ old," said Quenah, clearly offended.

"B-but," stuttered Harry.

"An _Elwý_'s life-span is bordering on immortal," the elf lectured as they walked, "it has been documented that the longest living elf lived to be just over eight thousand years old, though most don't make it that far."

Harry felt like his mind was going to melt. Eight thousand! He could live to be eight thousand years old! It was simply too much to take in.

_No stupid, you're human, remember?_ Denial reared it's ugly head.

Quenah was still talking. "A lot of _Elwý _die of accidents when they become older, or of a sickness, or in battle."

"Battle?" asked Harry, startled by this.

Quenah nodded. "Yes, all _Elwý _are required to do at least a century's worth of war service for every millennia and a half that they live."

"So you...?"

"Yes, I've done two centuries. However, I did them both back to back, so I still have another fifteen centuries to go before I will be required to do another."

"And when you get older it's easier to die," Harry concluded.

"Yes. Exactly."

They stopped walking in front of another room, this time with no door. Peering through into the brightly lit room, Harry could see lots of rolls of parchment hanging on the walls and littering the large table in the centre.

"Say," he asked as they entered to find the room empty, "what about royalty? They don't go to war, right?"

"Ah," said Quenah, pursing his lips, "no one knows."

"Huh?"

"No one knows. The royal house guard themselves very jealously. When a monarch steps down, they are usually never seen or heard from again."

Harry stared at the elf, trying to process this. His family didn't...they didn't _off_ themselves did they?

"Ah! Here we go!" Quenah greeted a younger male elf who had walked through the archway, interrupting Harry's thoughts. It was probably just as well, he thought to himself as the new elf bowed to him, but not before giving him a curious once over.

Harry's geography lesson was much more interesting than his etiquette one had been. For one, he could understand his teacher, whose name was Dóretell (Dóre for short in Harry's mind), a lot better than the previous she-demon, because he took care to speak slowly and enunciate fully. With Quenah's translating and whispering in his ear, Harry found himself picking up words easily.

Secondly, Harry got to learn that the elve's dimension wasn't just home to elves like he'd first assumed, and nor did it have mysterious misty borders to the unknown. It was also home to many magical beings - some of which were distant ancestors of ones Harry knew from the wizarding world and others completely new - some of which were allies of the elves and some of which were enemies (obviously those were the ones that the elves were needed in battle for).

Dóre taught Harry a brief history of each individual country and about each species as well as the geographical lay out of the lands. He spent more than half their time together (a full two hours) talking about _Elwýn_ and its geography. When Harry came away from the class, he was feeling a lot better and more solid in his knowledge of where he was and its surroundings.

"What next?" he asked Quenah.

"Lunch!" Exclaimed the elf happily.

Harry had noticed that Quenah had become a lot less formal and more open around him as time wore on, something that he was very happy about. It made him feel a lot more welcome and less stressed and worried.

"Also," said Quenah, "we can continue your grammar lessons. We'll take lunch in your room."

"Okay," Harry acquiesced.

On the way back to the tower, Quenah made Harry repeat all the new words he'd learned and corrected his pronunciation as best he could. When they reached the guards at the doors to the royal quarters, the elf told one of the guards to have lunch brought to Harry's room, and then they went through.

Being back in his room made Harry feel much more comfortable. In here there were no wide-eyed stares or muted whisperings as he passed, just him and Quenah.

"Well, let's start then." Quenah took a seat and clasped his hands.

Harry got out his notes, quill and ink, and they set to work.

* * *

Harry had never been outside the palace yet, but apparently in order to get to where they practised sword-play, archery, and kept the horses, one had to descend to the bridge and cross over to the next section of palace, then again to get to the last part (the palace was divided into three) where there were large expanses of flat ground and a forest. This, Quenah informed Harry, took an elf an hour to walk.

However, because Harry was important, he got to have special privileges, one of which included use of the transportation towers at any time.

Harry knew about the transportation tower in this part of the palace because it was the means by which he had arrived in this dimension, but he hadn't known there were two more in each section of the palace. On the walk over to the one they were going to use to get to the third tower, Harry asked Quenah about them.

He learned that they were specially designed towers built with runic circles and spells in order to enable an elf with the proper knowledge to travel almost anywhere. It was, of course, easier to use them as pathways between another transportation tower, but if an elf was skilled enough they could open up a circle in any location. Unless, Quenah told Harry, the area had been warded against transportation circles (for instance, anywhere inside the palace grounds that wasn't a transportation tower itself) then anywhere was fair game.

Unfortunately, the elf lamented to his student, most any elf with money, and a lot of their neighbouring nations, had erected barriers of their own, so the transportation circles could only really be used as a convenient means of travel and not invasion or assassination. Harry was privately glad at this, because that sounded simply awful. In a way, he was reminded of apparition. He silently wondered if transportation circles could splinch you as well, and almost laughed at the image of a helpless, splinched elf standing in line at St. Mungos to get fixed.

At the transportation tower, there were two guards blocking the entrance that Harry hadn't noticed the day before. Quenah exchanged a few words with them and gestured to Harry. The elves nodded and stepped to the side, allowing them through the doors and into the room. One of them followed them in.

"She's going to do the spell for us," said Quenah in explanation.

They stepped into the centre of the room, into the inlaid circle, and this time Harry closed his eyes when the chanting started, already knowing that the resulting light would blind him otherwise.

The chanting reached a crescendo, he saw the light flash behind his eyelids, and then there was a strange sense of vertigo. Harry opened his eyes and saw that they were in almost an exact replica of the previous room, except the colours were a little different, as well as the position of the light and shadows.

"_Thank you,_" he told the elf who'd done the spell as they exited the room. Harry thought he might have startled her, because she blinked at him curiously and then craned her neck for a better view as they passed out of sight.

This time, as they walked the corridors and went down stairs, not as many elves stared at Harry. He thought perhaps that the news hadn't travelled as far down as the third palace yet, and that the elves simply assumed he was a child (due to his short height) because he was wearing regular elven clothes. A few did do a double take however, and Harry had no doubt that by the end of the day, every elf would know that there was a human on the premises.

Oh well, he supposed they'd have to get used to it. He _was_ supposed to be their prince, after all. The thought still sent shivers down his spine. It was still so unreal. But considering all the strange things that had happened to Harry throughout his life, he wasn't surprised he was taking the news with minimal mental break downs and screaming fits. He was quite used to handling unwanted news (or even wanted, but startling and life changing news) by now.

Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn't like it was actually _true_.

Harry turned his attention back to their surroundings as, for the first time in a couple days, he stepped outside. They exited through a side door and into what looked like a courtyard. Quenah obviously knew where he was going, because he led Harry across the grass covered courtyard with its stone benches and strange, pale brown trees. There was a wooden door in one corner and they left the yard through that. A short corridor later and they were stepping fully outside the palace.

In the distance Harry could see the beginnings of a large forest and before that a large field. However, Quenah directed them towards what looked to be some stables, or perhaps barracks.

It was both, Harry soon discovered. The stables and barracks were connected to each other and circled around almost half of the third palace on the outside, where it would be most vulnerable to attack - not, Quenah told him, that the palace had ever been attacked. Its wards were far too strong.

They entered the stables part of the building, since it was closer and Quenah told Harry to keep an eye out for a tall elf man with blond hair, probably wearing some sort of armour or carrying a sword, and missing his left ear. Harry gaped at this bit.

"He lost it in battle," Quenah said, correctly interpreting his aghast look.

Still, to be missing an ear...must be horrible. It reminded Harry of Mad Eye Moody and all his missing body parts.

They didn't have to look far. They found the elf in question near the joining of the stables to the barracks. He was bellowing loudly at some poor underling and still sounding quiet fierce, despite the beauty of his language. Harry was about to step forward and turn the elf's ire away from the boy (who looked around his age, the first elf child Harry had seen) onto himself, but Quenah held him back, telling him not to interfere. But, Harry didn't have much time to wonder at this because he was distracted by a whinny. Most of the horses were out in the paddock, but this one was still in its stall. He stepped forward for a closer look.

It was a beautiful beast, easily rivalling the Headmistress of Beauxbaton's flying horses in splendour and grace.

"Hi," he whispered, getting close enough to pet the curious head peeking over its stall door.

"_Hm, what's this?_" Said a loud voice behind Harry.

Harry whirled around, feeling automatically guilty just from the person's tone, even though he hadn't done anything. There was an elf looming over him, the same one that had been just moments ago shouting at the boy. Harry gulped.

"_A human?_" The elf leaned down to peer at Harry, and never before had Harry truly felt his lack of height than right that second.

Still, at least he understood what was being said to him. He chanced a glance at Quenah, but the elf was leaving him to his own devices, no doubt wishing him to practise his language skills.

"_Well?_" Barked the imposing elf, who Harry belated realised was his teacher because he was clearly missing his left ear.

He cleared his throat. "_I'm, uh, Harry._"

"_Harry_," his teacher repeated, very unimpressed.

"_This is your new student,_" Quenah finally intervened, stepping next to Harry.

"_I'm teaching _humans_ now?_" Asked the elf, and tones of disgust could be heard.

Harry was offended.

"_Oh no,_" Quenah was quick to reassure Harry's new teacher. "_This is Araëmel-aryón_."

"_Araëmel-aryón is human?_" The elf deadpanned.

"_No!_" Quenah exclaimed quickly, "_Of course not, there's just been a bit of a skin problem._"

Harry heard the oft-repeated word of "skin" and understood that they still thought he wasn't really human. He knew, of course, that he really was. He was born this way, he grew up this way, thus he was human. It made perfect sense to him.

But either way, Harry's teacher seemed to calm down and looked Harry over with a critical eye. He said something clearly insulting about Harry because Quenah blushed and choked, and for once he was really glad he didn't understand _Elwýnllambe_ quite _that_ well enough yet.

"_Well, come on then,_" said Harry's teacher who still hadn't introduced himself. Harry followed him obediently.

The elf stalked into a room (for once what Harry considered a proper room, meaning that there were no large, breezy windows) and emerged some seconds later with an armful of gear which he immediately dumped on his student. Harry had to fumble to keep hold of it all, though he didn't say anything - he was used to this kind of treatment from the Dursleys.

As they walked through the barracks (and as curious elven heads popped out of rooms to watch with wide eyes), Harry's teacher introduced himself and laid down some rules.

"My name is Master Melcacrist_,_" he began. "That does not mean Melcacrist, Melca, or 'excuse me' as I have sometimes been addressed. It means Master Melcacrist or 'sir', is that clear?"

Then Melcacrist proceeded to scowl at Harry as he had to wait as Quenah hurriedly translated his new teacher's speech. As soon as the elf was done, Harry rapidly nodded his head and said, "_Yes sir!_"

Melcacrist seemed pleased by this and went on speaking. "Furthermore, I don't care if you're the Crown Prince of the world. When it comes to war and battles, I'm the best teacher they have, so I want no pussy-footing around. While you are with me, you'll be the one obeying me, not the other way around."

After this was translated, although Harry got the main gist of it by the elf's tone alone, he again said, "_Yes, sir,_" trying to be as respectful as possible.

"_Good_."

They stopped again at another room for two wooden practise swords, which Harry was also forced to carry, but not before he was made to change into what he was previously carrying. This turned out to be a less colourful version of the clothes that Melcacrist was wearing, minus the wasit-wrap (as Harry had taken to calling it). He also put on a leather jerkin and two leather arm guards.

Quenah hovered over his shoulder the whole time, clearly upset by the disrespect his prince was receiving, but obviously knowing Melcacrist's temperament and reputation, so saying nothing. Harry was grateful, knowing that if his tutor said anything to rile the elf up, it could result in it being taken out on him.

They reached a practise ring which was fenced off and Melcacrist had Harry lean the swords against a post before having him stand in the middle of the ring across from him. Harry began to get nervous. Didn't they need the swords to practise?

Apparently, Melcacrist had other ideas. He started off the lesson with a question and answer session which kept Quenah working overtime with the back and forth translations.

"Have you had any previous fighting experience at all?" His teacher asked.

Harry frowned. "What kind of fighting experience?"

Melcacrist scowled. "Anything. Brawling, dodging, duelling."

"Uh, yeah, pretty much all three." Harry replied, racking his brain for instances.

"Explain," came Melcacrist's command.

"Well, I've sort of brawled before. You mean punching and stuff right? I have a school rival who I get into fights with and I sort of almost wrestled a troll once." Suddenly Harry almost laughed, realising the complete irony of that last statement. He had never once considered his Halloween stint back in first year along the lines of what the Weasley twins had told Ron he had to do to be sorted before, but now the irony almost made him chuckle. "And I've have plenty of practise dodging," he continued, suppressing his previous desire, "since my cousin Dudley used to have a game he called 'Harry hunting'." Harry received two blank stares at this, so he had to elaborate. "Er, he and his gang would chase after me and if they caught me they would beat me up. Anyway, and I've had plenty practise duelling before." He pulled out his wand from where he'd slipped it through the waistband of his pants.

Melcacrist looked at it in astonishment, although Quenah was still busy muttering the phrase "Harry hunting" incredulously under his breath.

"Duelling with a _stick_?" Melcacrist looked like he wanted to laugh.

"It's a wand!" Exclaimed Harry hotly, offended.

"A wand."

"Yes! What else could you have meant by duelling?" Harry waved his wand around exaggeratedly, emphasising his point.

"Swords," said Melcacrist shortly, "and be respectful boy!"

After this was translated, Harry muttered a sheepish, "_Sorry sir_."

The elf stared at him for a few moments, clearly assessing him with his gaze. Harry waited patiently, not wanting to aggravate him further by saying something he wasn't supposed to.

"Explain this wand duelling to me," Melcacrist finally demanded.

"Um, well, you sort of stand across from each other, or in a battle, across from your enemy, and shoot spells at each other, dodge them, block them, that sort of thing," he explained awkwardly.

Melcacrist's eyebrows rose. "You've been in battles?"

Blushing, Harry nodded.

"Hmm, show me one of these 'spells' of yours. I assume it is human magic?" Melcacrist waved his hand off to the side.

Harry glanced at the empty patch of dirt, not sure what to do. He glanced at Quenah for help, but the elf had no clue either. What spell could Harry do on an empty patch of dirt? And what about the Ministry - would they be able to detect him? He didn't think so, he was in another dimension after all, and if they Ministry knew it existed, Harry would have learnt about the elves a long time ago. He figured he was safe from the Improper Use of Magic Department.

Finally, he had an idea. He flicked his wand in the direction of the wooden swords and said a firm, "_Accio sword_."

One of the wooden swords lifted off the ground and came zooming towards him. He caught it in his left hand by the hilt and turned back to his teacher. The elf was watching him calculatingly.

"Put it back," he ordered.

Shrugging, Harry banished the sword back to it's place and stuck his wand back into his waistband.

"Have you had _any_ experience with swords?" Melcacrist asked.

Harry hesitated, remembering the incident with the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Spit it out boy!" Melcacrist demanded, although Quenah's translation was a lot more respectful, which earned him a glare.

"Well, once I used this sword to kill a basilisk," he told them, although it probably didn't count as real sword fighting.

Also, when the two elve's faces began to drain of colour and pale rapidly, Harry reckoned he probably shouldn't have said that. Melcacrist didn't even need a translation to understand what Harry had said, the basilisk being a universally deadly and hated serpent.

"Y-you did _what_?" Quenah practically screeched.

Harry's eyes widened. "I'm sorry! It was going to kill me and I had to save my friend!"

"You killed it with a sword?" Melcacrist asked faintly, and it took a few tries for Quenah to get his question across.

"Yeah, but," Harry hastened to reassure them that he hadn't killed it in some super hero fit of strength, "it got me in the arm with one of its fangs. Here, I have the scar to prove it." He rolled up his sleeve and displayed the shiny whitish patch of skin in his forearm.

Both elves gaped at him some more and Harry cursed his big mouth and inability to say the right things.

"How are you not _dead_?" Quenah gasped. "Not even an elf can survive a basilisk's venom!"

But of course, Harry thought, he had stupidly forgotten that a basilisk's venom was deadly. Of course they would be wondering how he wasn't dead.

"It was Fawkes. He's a phoenix. He cried on my wound and it healed."

The two elves calmed down considerably at this information, but they still looked either gob-smacked or heartily impressed.

"Still," mussed Melcacrist as Quenah translated, "you can't be more than sixteen years old. That is impressive for a sixteen year old."

"I was twelve," Harry corrected without thinking.

"Why am I not surprised," said Quenah weakly. He then reluctantly explained to a curious sword master. Melcacrist was silent for a minute as he stopped to digest everything Harry had stupidly revealed.

"I think," he finally smirked, "I will like working with you, your highness."

Harry started at the show of respect, but then grinned slightly. Maybe revealing all he had, had been a good idea. It had been common knowledge in the wizarding world, but over here it was brand new information, and it had come of use. Now his teacher respected him and would hopefully go easier on him.

But that was not to be. Evidently, respect in Master Melcacrist's book meant being twice as hard as he would have been before and acting like an all around slave driver. By the end of Harry's preliminary sword lesson, he was sweating buckets, had several brand new bruises, and his muscles were aching so hard from blocking sword swings that they felt like they were about to drop off.

"Now," said Melcacrist cheerfully as Harry collapsed on the ground, "we'll move onto horse riding next to give your arms a rest before archery."

Harry groaned.

* * *

**AN:** Well, here it is FINALLY. the fourth instalment of this ever cheesier cliched wonder. I actually, really have to apologise for the lateness of this, seeing as I had it written ages ago, but just never got around to beta-ing it. I could have posted this in June.

heh.

However, before that I never would have had the time to post it. If you need any explanations of the entity I like to call "real life" then please check out my profile where I have written a brief explanation for my disappearance during the months of April and May, as well as half of June.

In any case, I would dearly appreciate some reviews, especially if you catch any typos and plot holes. Those, I would like brought to my attention ASAP. Thanks.

**Questions & Answers:**

**Why do the elves hate humans so much? **_More reasons for this will be revealed in later chapters, but the basic point I'm trying to make here is that the Elvish society is very similar to the pureblood wizarding society in that they are prejudiced bastards who see themselves as above all other species. Yes, something happened several thousand years ago in the past, but come on, humans were still in the dark ages then, they can hardly be blamed for any mistakes they might have made. Then again, the elves, as you can see, have a very LONG memory. _

**Does anyone in the Wizarding world know about the elves or Harry? **_Um, that would be a no. A very big NO. You'll find out later. _

**Why does Petunia hate Lily?**_This will be explained in great detail in the next few chapters. _

**Why did Lily leave?**_Again, revealed in later chapters. XD_

**Are James and Lily still alive?** _A big resounding NO to that one too. Sorry. _

Okay, that's all the questions that have been brought up in reviews. Please let me know if you have anymore, as I realise I can be very confusing in my writing sometimes. Apart from that, please brow beat me if I made any grammatical mistakes. Or typos.

Toodles.

xoxRia


	5. Potions

_(Edited as of 2 January 2009 - extra material added to chapter)_

**Chapter 5:**

Harry spent a week on the same exact routine as his first day and by then he had made fast friends with Quenah, who, despite the age difference, treated him almost like a younger brother. He had also managed to keep up a friendly relationship with two of his teachers (the evil etiquette teacher did _not_ count) which he also counted as a plus.

However, in that one week, apart from the first day, Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of his grandparents. Still, he wasn't too worried. He was picking up vocabulary fast, though his speaking abilities still left much to be desired (in other words, he hadn't progressed much beyond basic sentences), but his listening comprehension had improved in leaps and bounds that amazed him - it simply shouldn't have been possible.

Unfortunately, the downside to all this was that, first of all, his muscles hadn't stopped hurting since his first lesson with Melcacrist (in fact, Harry could have sworn he'd died and gone to hell on that very first day). As much as he had come to respect the sword master, Melcacrist was a certified torture specialist who was probably on par with Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry was sure that the fact that he could barely move during most of the day was a carefully calculated move on Melcacrist's part.

Quenah told him he was being paranoid.

Harry begged to differ, and then informed his friend of all the times he _should_ have been paranoid and wasn't.

Quenah still thought he was being ridiculous, but no longer brought the subject up quite so much.

The second downside to all Harry's lessons was that he was forced to move about the palace every day - and every day he was sighted by more and more elves, who had begun to frequent the corridors when they knew Harry would be in them between lessons. They would point and gossip and gape in wonder at the well-dressed human who was taking lessons from some of the top masters in the palace.

By now, Harry had figured out that the King and Queen hadn't informed their subjects about what was going on, and had left the gossip to pure hearsay and speculation. Quenah confirmed this.

One last thing that Harry mourned in particular though, was the elfin lack of belief in 'weekends'. Harry had tried to explain the concept to an extremely amused Melcacrist, only to be laughed at seconds later and ordered to run five laps around the edge of the training area. Elves, apparently, worked every day of every week of every year (unless there was a royal celebration).

Harry thought this sucked, to put it plainly.

And yet, perhaps there _was_ a god, he thought when he woke up on the eighth day, fully prepared to get up and ready for lessons. Not soon after embracing the land of the living once more, Quenah entered his room and told him he could go back to sleep because he had no lessons that day.

Harry stared.

"What?" he asked, thinking he'd misheard.

"You have no lessons today," said Quenah cheerfully. "And please don't forget to speak to me in _Elwýnllambe_ if you can."

Harry grumbled. He was rubbish at speaking and felt no need to further embarrass himself when he didn't have to.

Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed, determined to get up anyway and have a very long soak in the tub.

"You're still getting up?" Quenah asked, surprised.

"Yeah," yawned Harry, "I'm going to try and soak off some of the stiffness. Then maybe I'll go down to the stables and practice a bit anyway."

"I'm impressed, your highness," his tutor teased, "your dedication is heart warming."

Harry shoot an irritated look over his shoulder at the elf while he grabbed a clean outfit from his second, elvish made trunk. It was the darker green one today.

"You know very well that I'm only doing it because Melcacrist told me I need to practice every day or my muscles will feel even worse. I need to stretch at the very least." He shot over his shoulder as he ducked into the bathroom.

"Shall I have breakfast brought up?" Came the amused voice.

"Yeah, thanks!" Harry called back.

"_Elwýnllambe_, Araëmel, use _Elwýnllambe!_" Came the exasperated reply.

"Maybe when you start calling me Harry, I'll consider it," Harry shouted over the roar of the water as it began to spurt out of the tap.

He undressed, waiting for Quenah's reply.

A muted, "And you know I can't do that," was his response.

Rolling his eyes, Harry called, "And _you_ know that no one's going to find out if you only do it in private." 'No one', of course, being their exalted majesties. They insisted that Harry be called Araëmel and that 'Harry' was neither appropriate for a prince, nor the least bit decent sounding.

Or, according to Quenah they did. Harry didn't know for sure.

After a few seconds when he didn't hear a response, he assumed that the older elf had left. Shrugging, Harry slipped into the still filling tub, sighing in relief when it made his muscles relax and stop clenching and cramping. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, blocking out the morning light.

He almost fell back asleep like that, but was jerked out of his dazed state when he felt the water reach his neck. He was forced to move to turn it off and prevent the tub from overflowing.

He dozed in the bath until he heard Quenah come back. Then he quickly scrubbed himself clean and got out of the tub; draining the water, getting dressed, and cleaning his teeth as best as he could.

His tutor was already half way through breakfast when he emerged. Harry sat down and helped himself, wincing when he felt his soreness still there as he tried to reach across the table for the bread. Quenah passed him the food instead.

"Thanks," mumbled Harry.

"_Elwýnllambe_," Quenah admonished.

Harry rolled his eyes. "_Thanks_," he repeated.

Quenah nodded his satisfaction and sipped something from his crystal goblet. Harry chewed a piece of bread and thought. He really had no idea why he had the day off. Was it a special day? A break that he would get every week? He didn't think so, not from Melcacrist's reaction the other day.

"So, why do I have the day off?" He finally asked, swallowing his mouthful and washing it down with a gulp of sweet water. (Harry had no idea what was _in_ sweet water, but that's what it was called, and it tasted good, so he wasn't going to ask...just in case.)

"Their majesties needed you to be able to answer a summons at any time today," Quenah replied.

"Huh?" Harry set down his goblet, frowning. "But what does that have to do with not having lessons?"

Quenah lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, "I believe it is simply easier to cancel lessons."

"So I'm going to be summoned at some point today?" Harry asked, curiosity rearing its head.

Quenah nodded.

"Then maybe I should stay in this part of the castle today," Harry mussed. "Wouldn't want to miss it."

"That would be best," Quenah agreed. "Shall we continue our language lessons?"

Harry groaned.

"Perhaps we should start on the written word today as well," Quenah thought out loud.

Harry felt his interest perk up. An elven writing system? That would be cool if he could read and write in a weird system - it would be like a secret code.

"There's a writing system?" He asked.

"Of course, did you think we wrote using the Latin alphabet? Hardly. I simply used that for your benefit," Quenah explained. "Today, I think we should start on _Elwýntencelle_ and expand your grammatical knowledge. Did you memorise that last set of conjugations I gave you?"

Harry looked anywhere but at his teacher. "Er...maybe?"

"That's a no," said Quenah dryly.

Harry ducked his head and stared at his plate. The plate was far more interesting anyway. Such wonderful craftsmanship.

"Araëmel."

And the little lines etched into the crystal? Those were nice as well.

"Araëmel_._"

Harry ignored the voice. Honestly, it wasn't _that hard_ to call him _Harry_ for once.

"_Araëmel_."

Quenah was growing frustrated. Harry continued to pretend to stare at his plate and his food. He fiddled with some crumbs, rubbing them between his fingers as if they were the most fascinating things he'd seen in his life.

"Fine! Harry!"

Harry looked up. "Yes?" He asked innocently, as if he hadn't just been ignoring the elf for the past minute.

Quenah's eye almost looked like it was twitching. Harry watched in morbid fascination.

"Get your notes," Quenah finally said, clearly having regained his composure.

Harry stood up. "Ok, ok."

***

The summons came that afternoon, but for once Harry found he was reluctant to go. The elvish writing system, _Elwýntencelle_, was something Harry found himself more interested in than he had expected. He wondered if Ancient Runes was similar to this and thought himself rather stupid for not having taken it before. Divination just couldn't compare, no matter how well it tested his creative writing talents.

So, he reluctantly put down his quill and stood, while the elf sent to get him waited patiently by the door.

"Let's not keep their majesties waiting, shall we?" Quenah said, putting down his own pen and ushering Harry to the door.

The elf guide silently led them to a part of the castle where Harry had never been before. It was lower down, underground even. They had to go down an awful lot of staircases to get there and Harry longingly thought of Hogwart's magical short-cuts, or, even better, a muggle elevator.

Quenah quizzed him the whole way down on proper forms of address, greetings, farewells, random polite phrases, among other things, and even continued when they began to head underground, despite the fact that Harry would much rather have looked around them more as they walked. This was unexplored territory for him, but Quenah babbled on obliviously.

Harry half thought that the elf was simply as nervous as he was becoming (the underground stairwell quickly lost its appeal after it didn't change for a while and got even darker). This was perhaps evidenced by the occasional eye flicker or clenching of hands. If Quenah was nervous, Harry didn't know what that made him exactly, but it definitely made him cautious.

Eventually, even Quenah fell into silence and stopped trying to coach Harry on his beloved subject. As soon as the elf had stopped talking, Harry changed his mind and wished that he _would_ chatter on, just alleviate some of the pressing tension between the small group as they descended. Harry likened the situation to that time when he and Ron had followed Hagrid's spiders into the forest - it started out an adventure and turned into a nightmare. Honestly, thinking back on it now, it had been a momentously stupid idea.

And speaking of ideas - whose idea had it been anyway? His or Ron's?

Harry liked to pretend it hadn't been his. Whether or not he was in denial was yet to be confirmed.

Finally Harry could take the silence no longer.

"Where are we going?" He asked Quenah in a whisper, afraid in the dim stairwell to speak in anything but.

"I don't know," Quenah also whispered.

Harry glanced at their guide, but either the elf didn't understand English or he was playing mute. He racked his brain for the words to ask the question in _Elwýnllambe. _

Finally he spoke. "_Where we go?"_ Harry winced at his poor grammar, but he knew he couldn't appear too proficient in front of Quenah, even if it chaffed him to know he was deceiving his friend.

The elf leading them paused for second on a step and looked back up at them. He said something in quick _Elwýnllambe_ which Harry didn't catch and he immediately turned to Quenah for a translation. Their guide started walking again and they too followed him down the endless staircase (or at least it seemed that way).

"He said we're going to the potions chambers and the archives," Quenah whispered to Harry.

Harry relaxed. "Oh." Then, "Wait, why?"

Quenah shrugged uncomfortably, but Harry sensed that he knew more than he was letting on. He let it slide however, deciding to just find out when they got there.

Fortunately, the potions chambers and the archives (archives of what? Harry wondered) weren't too far underground...it just seemed that way because they had come from so high above rather than ground level.

Eventually, the stairs ended and fanned out into a much more roughly carved passageway with balls of light floating at intervals along the walls. They followed their guide down a series of twists and turns and Harry began to grow excited again. He wondered what his grandparents could want with him down here. Maybe they just wanted to give him a tour? And why, for that matter, the potions chambers?

Harry thought it all a mite suspicious.

They finally arrived at a wooden door, this one made of a darker wood than the palace above ground (in fact, Harry was getting an "evil, dark lair" vibe or perhaps an "ancient hallway full of hidden secrets, like three-headed dogs" vibe), and the elf leading them knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds later the door was opened and they were ushered in.

Harry looked around in curiosity, eager to see what kind of secrets they were hiding down here. To his surprise, it reminded him strongly of the potions dungeons in Hogwarts (except without the overbearing presence of doom that Snape seemed to exude).

The room was divided into two parts. In the section furthest from the door sat rows of cauldrons ranging from large to small. The only difference was that these cauldrons were shaped a lot more strangely than he remembered wizarding ones being. The elves also seemed to use silver more often than not, rather than the standard pewter.

On the side closest to the door, a small group of elves sat around a table with large rolls of parchment spread out before them. Bookcases lined the walls and all of them were busy checking things over with their pens and notes.

Harry turned his head slightly and caught sight of the King and Queen in seemingly deep discussion with one of the elves doing the research. He looked very old, which left Harry wondering just how old he really was.

The King spotted them first and left the conversation, walking over to Harry. He gestured for him to follow, and then led he and Quenah back to where the Queen was still talking with the elderly elf. She broke off her conversation when they got close enough to hear (not that it would have made much of a difference to Harry) and turned to regard her grandson with a smile.

Harry smiled hesitantly back, trying to remember his formal greetings. He sketched a bow and muttered the only phrase that popped into his head at that time. Straightening, he caught the small flutter of approval in his grandmother's expression. She turned back to the elderly elf and gestured to Harry.

"_This is my grandson,_" she said.

The elf swept Harry a bow, saying one of the greetings that Harry had forgotten about, but which he recognised. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to do, but he needn't have done anything, because the elf turned back to the Queen and said, "_If you'll permit me?"_

The Queen nodded, and said something Harry couldn't decipher.

The elf nodded back and turned to Harry. "_If you'll follow me, your highness._"

Hesitantly, Harry walked with the elder over to the potions section of the room, sending a questioning glance over his shoulder at Quenah, who looked just as uncertain, but somewhat guilty. Harry narrowed his eyes in speculation, wondering just what it was that Quenah knew that he didn't. He decided that once this meeting was over, he and the elf were going to have a very long chat.

Harry hadn't noticed it before, but on the floor of the potions section, there was a large, inlaid design. He studied it, wondering what it was used for - or if it was just decoration. Somehow he didn't think so. Whenever he had encountered strange patterns in floors in the _Elwý_ palace, he always found they liked to do strange things, often at the most inopportune moments.

The elderly elf stopped by one of the larger silver cauldrons and picked up a roll of parchment that was lying next to it. Harry craned his neck to get a good view, but found to his displeasure that the whole thing was covered in the _Elwýntencelle_ characters that Quenah had been trying to teach him earlier; only a few of which he could recognise and none of which he could read.

_Bollocks,_ thought Harry crossly. Was no one going to tell him what was going on?

The Researcher (as Harry had decided to call him) called over a few more of his colleagues and they all crowded around the scroll, glancing at Harry from time to time. Harry thought that him being over there was quite pointless if all they were going to do was let him stand there and watch them discuss something in a language he couldn't understand...but he didn't say this out loud (most likely because he couldn't). He felt the language barrier quite acutely at that moment.

Finally, after much discussing of things that Harry couldn't understand, the head researcher made him stand next to the big cauldron. After much poking and prodding which didn't actually involve any touching (they used that strange ability to touch even when not touching, like the first elf that Harry had encountered), they made him hold his arm over the cauldron.

Harry stood there, holding his arm up and feeling like right fool, when suddenly one of the elves whipped out a dagger. Harry was so startled by it's sudden appearance that he didn't even try to move out of the way when the strange air pressure seized his arm and held it still. Gaping, Harry could only watch while the elves pierced his palm with the point of the dagger and let the blood well up.

"Hey!" He exclaimed. "Ow!" He tried jerking his arm back, but it was being firmly held by one of the elven researchers.

They let his wound bleed for a while until his palm held a small pool of crimson liquid, and then suddenly his hand was forced to turn over and the blood dripped into whatever mixture was in the cauldron.

Finally, Harry's hand was released and he snatched it back, cradling it to his chest and staring at the researchers in shock. He glanced behind him to see if anyone was protesting, but the royal couple seemed to be watching him with satisfaction.

_What the..._Harry thought, now thoroughly confused.

He wasn't given any time to think. The Researcher herded Harry over to another elf, this one holding something that looked suspiciously like a tape measurer. His suspicions proved correct when seconds later Harry experienced an extreme sense of deja vu. It was just like first year when Ollivander had measured him every which way, the only difference was that this tape measurer wasn't doing it on its own.

He was beginning to get incredibly irritated with the elf measuring him, scowling heavily as the woman took measurements and wrote them down, when she was forced to stop. The Researcher nodded at her and said something. The elf woman hurried off and Harry was left standing there, watching the older being warily. In his hands he was carrying a crystal goblet full of a strange green-ish liquid. It wasn't bubbling or oozing like a lot of Snape's potions did, but Harry could tell that it was one nevertheless.

He was proffered the goblet.

Harry stared. They didn't expect him to _drink_ that did they? He wasn't stupid. Even if they _were_ under orders of the King and Queen, he wasn't about to drink something he had no knowledge of. If he did, he'd never be able to look Snape in the eye again, knowing that if the man knew, he'd never let Harry live it down.

So Harry wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

The Researcher pursed his lips and kept holding out the goblet.

"_You must drink it,_" he insisted.

"_No,_" Harry replied adamantly, still refusing to take it, "_I not know what_," he pointed at the goblet, "_is that._"

Well, that was a pathetic attempt at speech if he ever heard one! Harry grimaced at his failure to communicate, deciding that perhaps he really ought to memorise those structural patterns (of which there were more than one, to his great dismay).

The elf woman form earlier returned, carrying a large roll of parchment which she spread out on the wooden surface of the table, between the two cauldrons they were standing near. She smoothed it out somehow and stopped it from curling. Then she stood back and looked at Harry expectantly.

"_Araëmel-aryón, please_," the elderly elf was asking Harry.

Harry glanced over to the far side of the room where his grandfather managed to catch his eye and give him a stern frown of displeasure. The man nodded his head at the Researcher and Harry got the message - do as he tells you, or I will be most displeased.

Sighing, he reluctantly accepted the potion-that-did-merlin-knew-what and held it at a distance, studying it. He brought it up to his face to sniff it, but only scented a vague coppery tang, almost like blood, and the scent of herbs. He glanced at the Researcher who was waiting impatiently. So with a sigh, and wondering if he ought to win an Idiot-of-the-Year award, Harry set the goblet at his lips and gulped down the potion as fast as he could.

Surprisingly, it didn't taste half as bad as he had been expecting. Frowning, Harry started to wonder if perhaps Snape made his taste bad on purpose? Or maybe elven potions were simply different and used different ingredients.

Harry was more inclined towards the former.

He gave the goblet back to the Researcher, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.

He stood there perhaps a minute, tensing himself for pain or odd happenings, but in the end he felt nothing change.

Finally, after perhaps two minutes, the Researcher asked Harry to place his bloodied hand at the top of the blank roll of parchment and smear blood down the centre of it. At least, that's what Harry thought he said. He may have been better at comprehending than he let on, but eventually a lack of vocabulary would win out. Still, Harry feigned ignorance and watched in amusement as the head elf resorted to miming to get his point across. Finally, casting an uncertain look at the old elf, who was watching him eagerly, he placed his sluggishly bleeding palm on the parchment and did as directed. A small, broken smear of red remained on the paper when he lifted his hand away. Harry stared at it, waiting for something spectacular to happen.

Again, nothing did. He wondered if this was all a joke, or some obscure experiment that they weren't sure would work.

But no, the elf woman gathered up the parchment carefully and carried it over to a section of inlaid floor. This part of the design was smaller and seemed like its own circular pattern among the larger one. Harry hung back as the woman placed the parchment down in the middle of the circle and stepped back. Two more elves appeared to either side of the circle and together they formed a triangle around it. They started chanting.

_Oh_, Harry realised stupidly, _they're doing a spell_.

From what he had seen of _Elwý_ magic so far, it was quite different from the wizarding kind. First of all, they didn't use wands, only their hands.

Secondly, whenever they performed something big they always used some sort of inlayed pattern of circles, whether that be something they'd just drawn moments before using some kind of crushed stone powder, or if it was a permanent fixture in the floor, either worked just fine. Then, they had some sort of strange, unspoken power over, well - air, would be Harry's best guess. He had seen elves touch him without actually doing so, and move things without touching them as well. Maybe it was a form of telekinesis?

Finally, Harry had just learnt that they used potions magic as well. But that it was perhaps a slightly different kind than the one Snape taught (or rather, terrorised) at Hogwarts.

The parchment began to glow softly - Harry could vaguely make out that his smear of blood was contorting and growing on it - and the chanting stopped. The elves stepped back and waited for their spell to run its course and when the parchment stopped glowing and settled down, he felt extremely cheated when he saw that his blood had formed words across the page - in _Elwýntencelle. _

That was it. Harry was definitely learning how to read, write, and speak _Elwýnllambe. _

Grumbling at the unfairness of it all, he trailed after the Researcher and all his colleagues back up to the library part of the room. He peeled off to stand next to Quenah while the rest of the elves, including the King and Queen, huddled around the paper and talked in whispers.

"All right, Quenah," Harry declared softly, "_What_ is going on?"

Quenah glanced at him guiltily. "Well…"

"Look! Look at this!" He shoved his bloodied hand under the elf's nose and watched him wince in satisfaction.

"I don't know for sure," Quenah stalled.

"Fine," said Harry shortly, "what do you _think_ is going on then?"

Quenah glanced at the group of researching elves and sighed. "I think they're experimenting on finding a way to remove your skin."

Harry blinked. At first he didn't understand what his friend meant. He thought that the elves were trying to possibly skin him. He paled at the thought. Then, he remembered that 'skin' was a term the elves used when referring to false bodies made by potions and spells and he paled further, suddenly wishing that they really had only wanted to skin him. At least he could grow his skin back. But changing his _species_?

"What?" Harry croaked. "B-but…"

Quenah looked at him sympathetically. "I know you believe yourself to be human and don't wish for that to change, but I know their majesties will try their hardest to get rid of your skin.

Harry swallowed heavily. "But if I was born a human, because my parents were human when they were in the wizarding world, then that wouldn't change, right?"

Quenah hesitated before speaking. "Do you know for certain that you were born a human?"

"What?" Harry started.

"Well, I'm no expert," Quenah explained, "but it is entirely probable that skins don't actually effect the reproductive organs." Here, Harry blushed. "But rather only those outward appearances that give humans cause for suspicion."

"So, you're telling me that I was born an _elf_?" Harry asked sceptically.

Quenah shrugged. "Maybe. You were born _Elwý_ and then given a skin perhaps moments after your birth. This is, of course, highly irregular and would probably have unforeseen circumstances."

Harry's mind whirled. Could it be possible? But then wouldn't the doctors delivering the baby - him - know? Or were they sworn to secrecy or obliviated? Or maybe he hadn't even been born in a hospital, but at home. The possibility that Quenah presented began to make more and more sense. But it just couldn't be true; Harry didn't want it to be true. He grasped at straws.

"What about my cousin Dudley?" He suddenly exclaimed, finally finding an inconsistency.

"Who?" Quenah asked, puzzled.

"My cousin Dudley," Harry elaborated. "He's the most human of human's I've ever seen. Big, fat, ugly and a complete idiot. He's a bully and a delinquent, although Aunt Petunia doesn't know that. But he's her son, my aunt's I mean."

"Ah," said Quenah, "_Taswafáne-aránelle_. She married a muggle human and got banished, am I correct?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"So this Dudley would be her son; her's and the human's?"

"Yup."

"Hm." Quenah furrowed his brow in deep thought.

Harry waited, and while he did so, he observed what was happening around him - for indeed, something was happening. Elves were rushing (although to Harry they looked more like they were gliding than rushing) about, lifting tables out of the way using their magic and clearing a large space on the floor, where the diagram was inlaid. Other elves were gathered around a set of three cauldrons and obviously making a potion or three by the looks of things. Why the rush? Harry wondered. In his experience, some potions could take _months_ to brew.

But apparently not for the elves. They were making quick progress with the potion and circle diagram, which was becoming steadily more elaborate as the elves added to it using powders.

Quenah cleared his throat and Harry sheepishly faced his tutor again, listening to his answer.

"I believe, though don't take my word on it," Quenah cautioned, "that because elves are inherently magical beings - in other words, without magic we would die - and because your...uncle...is a muggle human with not a single drop of magic, when your aunt and uncle's blood mixed, his blood prevented your cousin from being born an elf."

Harry thought this explanation over in his head, but it still didn't make sense.

"What what about Petunia's half of the magic? Surely that would have given Dudley enough magic to at least be born a wizard."

Quenah stared at Harry as if he'd just asked a stupid question. "You don't know?" He asked incredulously.

"Know what?" Harry responded warily.

The elf cleared his throat again and said, as if everything could be explained by this one sentence, "Your aunt is blue eyed."

Harry stared blankly. "So?"

He received an even more incredulous look, then one of resignation.

"I suppose you wouldn't know, would you?" His friend sighed. "Very well, I shall explain. All elves are born with grey eyes. In their first year they change to one of three colours; blue, brown or green."

"What if they stay grey?" Harry interrupted.

"They don't. Now, the colour of an elf's eyes means something. It gauges magical strength."

Harry's eyes widened. His eyes were green, what did that mean?

"First there is blue. Blue indicates that the elf only has as much magic to survive, but not enough to use. Next is brown. Brown indicates two things - that the elf is earth inclined and that they are magically powerful enough to do spells. Green eyes indicate a high level of excess magical energy, which, the brighter your eyes glow, the more magic you have." Quenah peered into Harry's eyes with his own blue ones. "And your eyes are bright, for a human. I can only imagine how bright they would be if you were _Elwý._"

Harry stared. He'd always been quite proud of his eyes. They were the one thing connecting him to his mother and he got lots of compliments on them when he was younger. It also helped that Aunt Petunia hated them and called them ugly, which was always something to be proud of. Now...now they were a mark of his inhumanness.

"Wait," he said slowly, staring at Quenah's blue eyes, "does that mean you can't do magic?"

"No," said Quenah, though he didn't sound bitter. "A surprising amount of elves can't. Sort of like your muggles and wizards. Both are human but some have magic and some don't, although unlike muggles, we elves still retain a portion. I suppose if, at some point, I was in extreme danger of dying, I could drain my life magic and use it, but I'd rather not risk it. It's why I devoted my life to the study of languages."

Harry nodded. It all made sense now. If Petunia only had enough magic to survive, it would explain why she wasn't a witch, was jealous of his Mum (or so he assumed), and hated wizards and magic of any kind. It would also explain why Dudley had turned out human, not having enough magic for any elven genes to survive, leaving him looking remarkably like Vernon. In fact, thinking about it now, Harry realised that Dudley was almost a clone of Vernon in every which way.

Yes, he thought, it all made sense. Which also meant that he…

Harry felt faint.

He stumbled over to the table and yanked out a chair, collapsing into it heavily. Quenah followed him, looking concerned and asked if he was all right.

"I'm fine, I think," he responded shakily.

He tried to distract himself from his train of thought and the preparations going on around them by asking his tutor a question. "Aunt Petunia was the oldest right? So did she used to be Crown Princess or something?"

Quenah sat down next to him. "No. An elven ruler must have magic. It was your mother that was Crown Princess, my prince."

_Eh?_ Harry thought. _No wonder Aunt Petunia hates my eyes, they're also a symbol of everything she couldn't have_. And no wonder she hated the elves as well. She'd probably been slighted at every turn. She was first born, yet not the heir. She was a Princess, yet had no magic. Her sister could go to Hogwarts, but she couldn't, she had to live like a muggle. In fact, if the way his aunt and her parents had interacted was any indication, she'd probably been slighted by them as well, in favour of Lily.

Suddenly, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for his aunt, and perhaps forgive her for a lot of the things she'd done over the years.

He summed up all his thoughts in one sentence. "Damn, that sucks."

In the end, Harry was given a full two hours to prepare himself for his inevitable fate. Two of the potions only took half an hour and they evaporated, leaving behind some sort of strange substance, one of which got spread around the diagram in carefully planned patterns. The other they kept and did nothing with. The third potion took the full two hours to brew and turned out to be yet something else that Harry was supposed to drink.

About half an hour after his initial conversation with Quenah, Harry began to panic. The full realisation of his situation began to sink in. The potions that the elves were currently preparing were for _him_ to _change_ him.

They wanted to change him. They wanted to turn him into something he wasn't...or was it something he was? Harry was no longer really sure. He found his hand grasping Quenah's robe sleeve.

"My prince?" Asked Quenah, immediately concerned. The older elf touched Harry's hand gently and Harry blinked up at him with a tight expression.

"Quenah, stop them. Please," he begged. "I don't want this. They can't do this. I like the way I am, I don't want to change."

Quenah simply stared at him at first, opening his mouth as if he was about to say something, but then his mouth shut with a click and he sighed softly, patting Harry's hand comfortingly.

"Please," Harry repeated, casting a hurried glance over his shoulder at his grandparents. They were quite a ways away at the other end of the room, sitting and talking in low voices. Or they were. Harry noticed that both were now staring at him and he paled. Had they heard?

Probably.

He turned back quickly.

"Quenah!" He hissed when his mentor gave no answer.

Quenah sighed again and slowly detached the hand Harry hadn't even realised was still clutching the other's sleeve. "I cannot do that. Nothing I say, or that you say will stop this. Their Majesties will not be disobeyed."

"B-but," Harry floundered. "What if I say 'no'. What if I get up right now and leave the room?" There was an uncomfortable sensation on the back of his neck that he had a feeling were two pairs of cold eyes glaring at him from behind.

"You will be caught and dragged back kicking and screaming," said Quenah simply and as quietly as he could.

Harry winced. Did being the "prince" mean nothing? Or was the King and Queen's word just that powerful?

"But I'm sure if I explain that I don't want to, and that I like the way I am and that I'm fine this way that...that'll be okay right? They'll understand?"

"I'm afraid not. You cannot be Prince if you are human and you must be Prince. You are the son of our Princess and you will succeed their esteemed Majesties when their time is finished many years down the road. But you cannot be human." Quenah shot him a speculating look. "Although I do not understand your reluctance to part from that sub-par body. It is far inferior in every way. Why would you not wish to become that which you were born as?"

Harry's lips pressed into a thin line and he turned his gaze to glare at the floor. Quenah just didn't get it! No one did. He didn't want this. He just wanted to go home, really. And home was Hogwarts, not this...this fantasy realm of fantasy beings!

"Just because," he eventually said.

Quenah was silent, shifting uncomfortably next to him for a few moments. Finally, the older elf bent down a little, as if to impart a secret and whispered, "My Prince, you have two options. You can walk into this gracefully and regally without fuss and accept their Majesties orders like the Prince I know you are...or you can be dragged, bound and screaming into that circle like a criminal, all your dignity gone. I know which I would choose. Do you not wish to prove you are more mature than your age? I know you have been through a lot, but compared to our long life-span, sixteen years of life is still but a child."

Harry bit his lip. Quenah had an extremely good point. Is that what he really wanted? To be treated like a child? Not really.

But did he really have no choice? Did he want to test Quenah's words and try to leave only to be dragged back?

What would his friends do? What would Sirius do?

Harry continued to worm his lip while he admitted to himself that Sirius would probably try to make a break for it. But he wasn't Sirius. He was Harry. Right now it was a case of self-preservation over rashness. Maybe his Slytherin side was rearing its ugly head, but if he had no choice, he'd rather do it himself and under his own terms, rather than be forced at wand - or rather - sword point.

He thought about his aunt and the way she'd been treated. Had she felt like this? Trapped and like a prisoner? Is that why she had married Vernon? To escape? To gain some control over her life so it wasn't constantly dictated by her demanding parents and the strict social rules the elven society seemed to be made of?

He also wondered how his friends were doing, and whether or not they knew he had disappeared. The Order had most likely found out by now and were searching for them. Had Petunia told them anything?

Harry spent the remaining hour leading up to his self-dubbed doom in silence. Even Quenah had fallen silent, as if sensing Harry's need to be alone at a time like this. For his part, Harry was extremely grateful.

But yet, even though he had had two hours to prepare himself for the inevitable, he still had trouble forcing his body to get up and move when he was beckoned for. He kept thinking, _They're going to change me. I'm not going to be Harry anymore_, over and over again. He stopped just outside the edges of the large diagram and waited for further instructions. Quenah came up behind him, ready to translate, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry glanced at him gratefully.

_And so it begins_, he thought morbidly.

First, Harry was ordered to take off his clothes, to which Harry replied that no way in hell would he do such a thing in front of so many people. After Quenah negotiated a bit with the elves in charge of the spell, it was decided that Harry could leave on his undergarments but had to take off everything else. Reluctantly, Harry had to agree.

Thus, it was a red-faced wizard who soon stood shivering in the cool air of the underground chamber, feeling absolutely mortified that he was practically naked in front of so many people. Of course, he knew that elves didn't take nakedness with quite the same reserve as wizards did, but that didn't stop Harry from having been raised in that mind set and thus feeling extremely awkward and embarrassed. He almost went so far as to wrap his arms around himself, but forced them to stay at his sides.

Next, Harry was ordered to stand still while two elves brought over the third cauldron and began to paint circles and spirals and _Elwýntencelle_ runes all over his body. They consulted previously drawn outlines as they worked and it took a full twenty minutes of Harry standing and shivering in the same place as they smeared the brown goo all over his body. Incidentally, the potion was also cold, which left him shivering even more. Quenah stood on the sidelines, calling instructions when one of the elves wanted him to lift up an arm or turn around.

After Harry was thoroughly covered in drying brown potion, he was given two goblets full of an almost clear concoction. This time, when the small dagger was brought out, Harry knew what to expect and tensed himself as the tip pressed into both his palms. They cut open his previous wound, which had crusted over, and opened a new one on his other palm. When three drops of his blood was added to each goblet, the potion bubbled slightly and turned a copper colour. Harry did _not_ relish drinking it.

But drink it he did, both goblets, one right after the other. Wrinkling his nose at the coppery flavour (but knowing it could have been worse), he drank them without complaint. The potions settled in his stomach and made him feel slightly queasy, but ready to burst.

Harry was ordered to go stand in the centre of the diagram. He had to pick his way across the carefully laid out powders and lines to get there. At one point he almost considered accidentally messing one up so they wouldn't complete the spell, but then wondered what would happen to the potions he'd just drunk if they sat in his stomach and did nothing. They sloshed unpleasantly.

Harry was extra careful after that. He successfully made it to the centre and faced the direction he was ordered to.

He locked eyes once with Quenah who gave him a thumbs up - something Harry had taught him a few days ago and which made him laugh every time he saw it - and an encouraging smile, but even that wasn't enough to dispel the cold dread pooling in his stomach.

Or maybe that was just the potion acting up? He couldn't be certain.

Harry stood there and waited for his fate.

* * *

**AN: **Yes, it's been an age, and yes I'm sorry. I have excuses. If anyone bothered to check my profile they'd know a good few of them. NaNoWriMo for one, no internet for close to two months, school, exams, end of summer, etc...you name it. So I don't really feel guilty about not being able to write any story, because I do have a life (as unlikely as that seems) and I do like to live it occasionally. However, I **am **sorry that I had this chapter written for ages and just couldn't be arsed to edit it so I could post it.

On the plus side, I completed NaNoWriMo with a rough total of 100,500 words for my first ever original novel. COMPLETED. This is a milestone for me, as I've never once been able to complete a story that wasn't a one shot or something for school. This means that this story might eventually have an end **gasp**.

Anyway, sorry about the poor quality of this chapter. **shrugs**. Not much really happens in this bit. The good stuff is next chapter, obviously. Don't get too worked up about the cliffhanger. I'll try to post the next chapter before Christmas. Keyword there: try. I will though, honest.

Let me know what you think...mostly to assure me that you haven't abandoned this story because of its propensity to go on random, short hiatuses. If you have, I don't blame you. Really.

**puppy dog eyes** review please?

Thanks!

xoxox

Ria


	6. Changes

**Important Notice: I have reposted the previous chapter with a bit of an addition to the chapter as I was made aware through a rather insightful review that Harry's reaction was not quite...complete…(you know who you are, and thank you for your observation!). Reading it is not vital to this next chapter, but I recommend doing so anyway to get a bit more insight into Harry and his grandparent's "relationship", and how the Elven world works. Thanks! :) **

**Chapter 6:**

Harry didn't have to wait long for the elves to start the spell. It was surprisingly short, but then, Harry supposed that most its elements had already been dealt with through the potions and diagrams. So the chant only lasted about thirty seconds, maybe a bit more.

The diagram glowed and any substances that had been spread across it evaporated in the ensuing barriers of magic that shot up and spread out. The potion on Harry's skin glowed as well, though fortunately it didn't do anything else. His skin tingled and in his stomach he felt the potion churn, but apart from that nothing else changed.

When the light died down he glanced around and saw all the elves hopeful faces disappear. He glanced down at himself, inspected his hands and body, and touched his ears. Everything was exactly the same as it had been before.

Harry felt such a strong sense of relief at this knowledge that it made him unsteady on his feet for a moment or two. He glanced up at his grandparents only to find them looking on with expressions of disappointment and anger. He felt a slight pang of spiteful satisfaction at this, but it was soon completely engulfed by his giddiness and relief. The spell had failed and Harry was still human - it looked like Quenah had been wrong.

He was let out of the diagram and allowed to rub off as much of the crusted potion as he could before he got dressed again. He went to meet with the two monarchs nervously, prepared to ask them if this meant he really was human. Quenah, Harry could tell, didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed at this recent development.

He stood in front of the two elven monarchs and twisted his hands nervously, wondering what they were going to say.

"This is a set-back in your studies," the Queen told him and Quenah translated, "but it is still only temporary. Where this spell has failed, others will not. We will find the solution."

Harry had to hold in the groan. He guessed this meant that they wouldn't be giving him up for a hopeless case anytime soon and let him go back to the wizarding world.

He guessed correctly when he was promptly dismissed and told to anticipate further summons in the future. Harry and Quenah followed their previous guide out of the room and back up to the main part of the palace, where they were dropped off and left to make their own way back to the royal quarters.

As they walked through the corridors and up the stairs, Quenah finally voiced his thoughts.

"I admit I am a little disappointed, my theory was wrong it seems. But you must be happy, Araëmel," he said.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I am. I'm still safe - I'm still me." In fact, he was so happy, he could ignore Quenah's use of his "other name."

"Well," Quenah responded, "we won't let it stop our lessons, though it would have made them easier, I admit. I assume you'll resume them tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Okay, I figured tha-aat! Ah!" Harry grabbed hold of Quenah's arm to stop himself falling as his vision suddenly went blurry and he tripped.

"Araëmel!" Quenah exclaimed, helping him. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Harry rubbed his eyes suspiciously, but his vision was just like normal and his glasses were fine as well. "I don't know. Something went funny." He glanced up at his friend, confusion written plainly across his face.

Quenah frowned. "I can only guess that it's got something to do with the spell. Backlash perhaps? Residue magic?"

"Oh." Harry rubbed his eyes again, just to check, but he could see fine.

"Perhaps I should go back and ask their majesties to suspend lessons tomorrow, just in case this backlash gets worse. This is a bit inconvenient."

Harry jumped on the chance. "Yes, please do!"

Quenah nodded and let go of Harry, turning to head back down again. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

Harry waved a hand carelessly. "Don't worry, I know where we are. I can get back easily."

"I'll be back later then, in time for dinner," Quenah said and hurried off. Harry watched him go and sighed, rubbing his head as if he had a headache - things just kept getting stranger, and now he was having after-effects. He hoped they wore off soon.

Then again, he thought as he continued his way back to his room alone, he got out of lessons. He'd better stretch soon though. Standing around for so long hadn't been good on his poor, aching muscles, which had cramped up again and made walking a bit painful. Still, Harry was used to this by now and barely even noticed.

However, he did begin to grimace when his muscle aches got worse the more he walked. When he got back to his room, he was definitely stretching! But first he needed to warm up. Getting an idea, Harry broke into a mild run, and no matter how scandalised some of the elves looked when he passed them, he continued to force his protesting body to jog all the way up to the guarded tower entrance. Once there, he stopped and winced, feeling like he'd run a marathon rather than for about fifteen minutes. Nodding warily at the two tower guards, who stood aside to let him through, Harry staggered his way into his room and collapsed on his bed, feeling drained.

_Stupid Melcacrist_, he thought miserably, _and stupid spell_.

He rolled onto his back and glared up at the canopy, as if it was the bed's fault that Harry had to get back up again and go stretch. But get up again he did, and promptly stumbled his way to a blank stretch of floor where he could stretch out properly. He sat down, because that was easier, and tried to touch his toes.

He was still in the middle of stretching, and having a really tough time of it when Quenah reappeared.

"Are you all right?" Quenah asked, coming up behind him.

Harry didn't bother raising his head from where he had it down by his knee and answered, "No. All that standing around made my muscles cramp up really badly and now they hurt a lot."

"Had any more after effects?"

Harry lifted his head from his right knee and switched to his left, managing to respond, "I feel really tired and I've got a headache coming on I think."

Quenah hummed in the back of his throat and suddenly Harry felt a mild pressure on his back from the elf's hand. The pressure forced him down that extra bit and let his muscles stretch even more. It hurt like hell, but that's what meant he was actually stretching.

"Thanks," Harry managed to hiss out.

"You should go to bed after dinner," Quenah said, letting up on the pressure to allow Harry to switch to a new stretching position before putting his hand back. "And no lessons tomorrow. Sleep off the effects. I won't bother you tomorrow, you can have the whole day to yourself."

"Okay," said Harry, feeling a bit better already from the good news.

"Do you even feel up to dinner?"

Harry got into his final stretching position and thought about the question. He wasn't sure. After drinking all those potions he didn't really feel all that hungry. Eating right now would probably just make him feel queasy.

"No, not really," he replied honestly.

He finally straightened up and, wincing, turned to face his tutor. Quenah had a worried look on his face and his eyes narrowed at Harry's wince.

"Go have a hot bath and then just go to bed," he suggested.

Harry wanted to make a smart salute to that, but decided against it when his shoulder muscles protested, instead settling for a barked, "Sir, yes sir!"

The reference to the army was completely lost on Quenah, who only looked at him strangely, but Harry was feeling too tired to explain, so he let the elf think what he wanted. He wandered into the bathroom and heard Quenah exit quietly behind him - he was alone.

He set the bath water to run and undressed slowly. Really, if he thought about it, it was a bit strange for his muscles to be hurting _this_ much. It almost felt like his skin was pulling as well, and his bones ached.

Harry frowned as he slipped into the growing water, trying to come up with a solution. Perhaps it was the combination of the after effects of whatever those potions and the spell had done to him along with standing still for so long, _and_ Harry's previous muscle pains from all the hard exercise he'd been doing the past week.

Yes, he nodded to himself, satisfied, that answer made the most sense and was probably what was happening. He'd be right as rain the next day once he'd gotten a good night's sleep.

He reached over and turned off the water and sank back for the second time that day, relishing in the wonders of hot water on aching body parts. He closed his eyes and made a stern note to himself not to fall asleep.

He must have dozed off somehow, because when he became aware of his surroundings again, the water had grown luke-warm and it was full night outside through the window. Grumbling to himself, Harry climbed out of the tub and let the water drain out. He dried himself off slowly, cursing his lack of self control over falling asleep because the colder water had negated any good effects the hot water might have had.

Feeling lazy, and yawning almost constantly, Harry only slipped into a pair of comfortable pants, before climbing into bed and snuggling under the covers. He quickly fell asleep, hoping he'd feel better in the morning and that he could get some of his school work done, like that pesky potions essay…

Harry awoke several times during the night, shivering or sweating profusely. Each time he felt awful, like he had a fever, and it took him longer and longer to get back to sleep. Finally, around seven in the morning, just after the sun had come up, Harry gave up sleeping and lay in bed, finding it hard to concentrate on anything.

If this was what was going to happen every time those elves tried some experiment on him, next time he wasn't going to be such a semi-willing participant. They'd have to drag him into that circle kicking and screaming, dignity be damned!

He groaned and shivered, suddenly feeling cold. Then his headache spiked. Maybe another bath would do the trick? Harry had never bathed so much in his life, but whatever little bit helped wasn't to be frowned upon.

Harry got out of bed, although tumbled was probably more accurate, and shuffled his way into the bathroom, leaving his glasses on the bedside table. He almost ran into the wall, but managed to manoeuvre himself through the doorway in the nick of time. He sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the water, watching it sleepily as it slowly rose. When it got high enough, he somehow got out of his bottoms and practically fell into the sunken hole. He slouched against the side, groping for the tap to turn it off, finally succeeded, and then promptly fell asleep again.

This time, when Harry awoke in the luke-warm, bordering on cold water, he felt loads better. His muscles still ached and he still had a mild head-ache, but he was no longer getting hot and cold flashes or feeling sick and dizzy. It was a vast improvement. He guessed the after-effects only lasted for a day or so and was immensely relieved. In fact, everything seemed much brighter, including the room. He could focus really well again, perhaps even better than before. He squinted at the golden tap and could have almost sworn it was glowing softly. He blinked and the glow disappeared. It had just been his imagination.

Suddenly determined to do something now that he was feeling better, Harry got out and dried off quickly, hurrying into the other room to find some clothes. He tripped a few times and his limbs responded clumsily, and occasionally felt a strange sense of vertigo, but he ignored the after affects of the day before. Sure enough, the more he moved around, the easier it got. And the clearer his mind seemed to focus on everything.

He had one elven outfit left that wasn't dirty, so he put it on, finding it fit him a little funnily. Had the tailor made a mistake? It was done in blues and silvers and _looked_ like it should fit, but the pant legs definitely fell short a bit and the jerkin refused to do up completely. Shrugging at this and figuring he could do without the jerkin, Harry simply credited it to possibly having gained some muscle while fighting with Melcacrist (never mind the fact that that wasn't possible over such a short time period) and sat down at the table with his school supplies all spread out.

_Right_, he thought, rubbing his hands together in preparation, _time to do that blasted potions essay_.

He pulled the nearest potions text towards him and began dutifully finding out the required information to write the essay. He stared at the ink in the books, frowning at the strange colour, which reminded him of oil. Hadn't this book been written in black ink?

The rustling of the book pages also echoed loudly in the room and Harry glanced around him. Shaking his head, he picked up a quill and scribbled loudly across the top of a piece of parchment. First he'd take notes, then he'd write his essay - just like Hermione.

He managed to write an introduction and few body paragraphs before he gave up. Looking down at his efforts, he felt inordinately pleased with himself for being able to concentrate for so long and get so much done - but it was time for a break.

Harry leaned back, wondering what he could do. Quenah had said he wasn't going to bother Harry today, so that left out any language lessons. Perhaps he could go down and visit Melcacrist and tell him why he hadn't been down for lessons the day before. The idea had merit. Then he could go watch the warrior training and simply relax outside.

Now determined in his plan, Harry got up and set off, bypassing the stairs leading down to the breakfast room, not feeling hungry still.

Well, really he just didn't want to accidentally run into his grandparents only to have them set another date for a failed spell. That would turn nasty when Harry refused.

So, he bypassed breakfast and headed out, nodding at the two guards briefly, who looked at him funnily. Maybe he should have worn the jerkin, even if it was too small? Harry wasn't sure which was worse; wearing too small clothes, or not wearing a part of the outfit.

Shrugging off the thought, he continued on his way, trying to remember his way through the maze of corridors to the bridge that would take him across to the next hill. He'd only walked the distance once before, all the other times he'd used the transportation towers, but his memory seemed sound. In fact, it was a lot easier to remember than he would have thought. All that time memorising Hogwart's secret passages must have come in handy.

Since he was up so early, Harry didn't really see very many elves up and about yet, and those that did were clearly either too sleepy or in too much of a rush to pay him any mind. That significantly brightened his mood, considering that usually they would make a point to go as far out of their way to go around him as possible - either that or just stop walking completely and wait warily for him to pass.

In fact, the fact that everything seemed brighter, the colours more vibrant, and that he was feeling the best he had in a long time made him happy enough to almost whistle a tune, but then he decided that was probably not the best of ideas and would make him look very foolish.

It took Harry a bit over an hour to reach the third portion of the palace, but he wasn't complaining, having chosen to walk rather than take the transportation tower. Besides, he didn't know if he was allowed to use it without Quenah there with him - a ridiculous notion, but possibly true knowing Harry's luck.

By this time, an increasing number of elves were emerging from their rooms and traversing the corridors with Harry. He watched them lazily, seeing as they weren't staring at him for once, and tried to figure out what they did with their lives. For that matter, he wondered what the social hierarchy was like. Who were the servants and who were the elite? Harry vaguely remembered being lectured on something like this during etiquette, but to be fair, he had been so bored none of it had really registered.

Harry was jerked out of his thoughts when someone went rushing past him, elbowing him out of the way. He stumbled slightly and righted himself, looking up angrily. The elf who had bumped him stopped and looked apologetic. Harry noted with surprise that they were about the same age.

"_Sorry!_" The elven teen exclaimed, _"I'm going to be late!"_

Harry glanced at the boy. His face looked anxious and he was practically vibrating in place.

Harry shrugged and muttered, "_It's ok."_

The teen grinned and then rushed off, scandalising more than one adult on his way. Harry watched him go and wondered if that was why he never saw any elven youth anywhere, because they were off doing something important during the day. Vowing to find out (maybe he could make friends?), he picked up the pace slightly, wanting to get out of the palace and over to the training grounds.

_Besides_, he mussed, _that guy seemed a lot more friendly than most of the adults_.

Five minutes later, he emerged into the sunlight, blinking. He crossed the courtyard and went down the passage between that and the palace grounds, finally swinging open the last door and exiting. He looked around, but there was no one in sight - which meant they all had to be at the training grounds, including Melcacrist.

Harry headed towards the stables, stopping briefly to say hi to the horse that he always rode, which whinnied at him and nudged his hand in greeting, then headed into the deserted barracks.

It was almost eerily quiet since no one was in at such a late hour in the morning, so he hurried through, eager to get back outside and onto the training grounds where he could hopefully talk to Melcacrist (utilising lots of hand gestures and broken speech), and then sit down and get some pointers from watching everyone else train.

Harry heard the sounds of shouting and clashing before he saw them, so he slowed down and cautiously poked his head through the wooden door leading outside, just in case he was interrupting anything.

Sure enough, there were two sets of sparring going on in one of the larger training areas. A crowd of young elves (both male and female, though considerably more male), stood around the edges and yelled at the ones sparring. Harry had no idea what they were yelling, but he knew quite intimately that Melcacrist thought it a good training exercise to scream and yell insults at his pupils while they were trying to concentrate. He said battle wasn't some silent affair where everyone would square off evenly and silently duel. There would be blood and guts and gore and screaming all around, and one needed to be able to keep their concentration no matter what. Harry supposed the elf did have a point, although it sort of defeated his purpose when he couldn't understand any of the insults except maybe a few (funnily enough, any and all insults he _did _know were picked up from Melcacrist).

Harry stepped outside and closed the door silently behind him, certain that he could go stand with the other spectators and not be noticed. He looked around for his teacher and saw him standing a little ahead of the group. He was also most definitely yelling the loudest and most foul insults - probably from little fear of retribution from the elf's station; if he could insult the crown prince then who _couldn't_ he insult? The other teens were slightly more subdued, but certainly giving their fair share of mockery.

As he approached, he thought he spotted the elf from earlier standing to the side. Had he been late for Melcacrist's lesson? Harry winced. Had it been his fault because the teen had stopped to apologise?

Harry felt guilty.

He sidled up the elf, who wasn't yelling anything at all, but concentrating intently on the two matches, racking his brain for the word for "late."

At first the boy didn't notice him, but soon he seemed to sense Harry's presence and turned in surprise.

"_Hey!_" He exclaimed, _"You're the one from earlier_."

Harry wondered how to respond to that. His speaking abilities were still rather sub-par, not to mention his pronunciation on certain words. He needn't have worried though, because the elf obviously didn't expect a response, he just kept on talking.

_"Thank the gods...I was late, but Melcacrist didn't...I thought…was…but then...idiot…did something stupid...it? It was...but I...lucky don't you think? Anyway…good thing he didn't...you too...good...skills...nice job." _The elf finished with a flourish, leaving Harry blinking in astonishment and only vaguely knowing what he had said. Either way, Harry could tell he hadn't gotten in trouble, or at least, not much trouble, and that maybe someone had done something to take the heat off of him.

_"Say, are you new?"_ The elf asked, peering at Harry closely.

Harry could have rolled his eyes. Did he _look_ like he belonged here? He reckoned being a completely different species was a bit of an indicator...but apparently not.

_"Yes,"_ he responded.

The elf nodded. _"My name's Meldirlion, but you can call me Mel or Meldir. What's yours?"_

Harry took a moment to digest Meldir's words and thought about his own carefully. Once sure he had the right phrase and grammatical structure in mind, he opened his mouth, only to shut it again. What did he say? His human name or his elven name? He glanced at the expectant elf and wondered which one he should use. Perhaps…

Hesitating only a second, Harry said as best as he could, _"My name is Araëmel_."And to his pleasant surprise, the words came out sounding exactly how they were supposed to. Even the word for "name" which he couldn't have pronounced for the life of him before today. He remembered Quenah saying that one day they would just click, and he guessed that today was that day. He grinned slightly.

Mel laughed. _"I'm Mel, you're Mel...and that's Mel over there as well!"_

Harry puzzled over this sentence for a moment, having understood the words, but not the context. He followed Mel's hand gesture and could only see Melcacrist surrounded by his pupils, but then had a thought. Melcracrist could be nicknamed Mel, and technically so could he.

Harry grinned back. _"Yeah."_

There was a loud cheering - one of the matches had ended. Melcacrist made the loser runs laps and then picked the next poor victim to go up against the winner. Harry had a feeling that the winner was going to become the loser; he already looked really tired. Melcacrist was a big fan of endurance. The new elf, a tall female faced off with her new partner.

"_Poor Niwh_,_"_ Meldir sighed mournfully.

Harry wondered which elf was 'Niwh'.

_"Taswa's brutal,"_ Mel continued.

Harry figured that 'Taswa' was the girl and that from the tone of Meldir's voice, she was a tough opponent. Sure enough, the fight was almost over before it started. Niwh was sent on laps.

Taswa lasted for two more fights before she was taken out and Harry was impressed.

_"She is good_," Harry observed carefully, watching his language.

Meldir nodded his head in agreement, apparently finding nothing wrong with Harry's sentence, for which he was glad. He was definitely getting the hang of _Elwýnllambe_ - all he'd needed was more practice and being forced to rely on just himself instead of Quenah.

_"So, where are you from then?"_ Mel asked.

Harry took a second to answer. It was a good thing that the elf was sticking to simple vocabulary and syntax.

_"I am from England,_" he eventually said, enunciating slowly.

Meldir shot him a weird look and said, _"Huh?"_

Harry wondered if he'd said it wrong. "England." He repeated.

Meldir continued to look puzzled, but Harry didn't know how else to explain it. What was the elven word for human realm? It had certainly been a topic much discussed.

_"What's this Inglahnde?"_ Mel was asking curiously, _"I've never heard of it."_

Harry felt extremely frustrated, how did he explain? How could he word it? 'The place where human's lived'? 'The human world'? What was the word for 'world'?

Suddenly, it came to him and Harry felt victorious.

_"The human world_,_"_ he said proudly, glad he could explain.

Mel's eyes went wide and he gaped at Harry as if he'd seen a ghost.

_"W-what?"_ he exclaimed loudly, drawing almost everyone's attention.

Harry didn't understand what was so shocking, after all, he was clearly human, so why didn't Mel find that so hard to believe? Perhaps there was a human-like species in this realm that he hadn't heard of yet and Mel had thought he was one of those?

_"What is going on here?"_ Bellowed a familiar voice.

They both turned to regard Melcacrist bearing down on them with a stormy expression and felt their faces drain of colour. Mel cursed softly under his breath and Harry managed an eloquent "Ah, shit," before the elf was on top of them.

_"What are you doing? Not...in _my _class are you? Who do you think you are? You are here to FIGHT, not...you idiots...like women...bad…laps, now!" _Was all Harry managed to catch, but the fact that he understood enough to know that they were running laps was a double-edged sword - he couldn't now pretend he didn't know what to do and escape the punishment.

He and Mel exchanged looks.

Melcacrist's only ear twitched in anger and Harry stared at in fascination.

_"I said 'now'!"_ The elf bellowed.

They both jumped to attention and took off running. Neither dared slow down to a jog until they were safely on the opposite side of the practice area and Melcacrist had gone back to yelling at whoever was fighting.

"I'm not even _in_ this class," Harry grumbled to himself as he puffed and panted his way around a full circle. He could sense Meldir staring at him from next to him too, which was a bit uncomfortable.

_Here's Harry Potter, Exhibit A_, he thought sarcastically.

_"Did you really live in the human realm?"_ Meldir finally asked breathlessly.

_"Yeah,"_ Harry grunted, feeling breathless himself. _'Really'_ was a good vocabulary word. It was easily understood from voice tone and context too.

He was torn from his scholarly thoughts when Mel spoke again, _"But that's impossible!"_

Harry looked at him in puzzlement, not sure what he had just said.

_"I don't speak Elwýnllambe good,"_ he managed to say.

Meldir gaped.

_"You speak _human?_"_

Harry rolled his eyes. Hadn't they already established that? Harry was human, he lived in the human realm, he spoke human. How more obvious could it get?

_"Say something!"_ Meldir demanded eagerly, _"Something human!"_

Harry blinked. Say something...human? He almost laughed at how absurd that sounded.

"Like what?" he asked in English. "What should I say?"

Mel gasped. _"Wow! That's so strange!"_

Harry did laugh this time, then decided that laughing while running was probably not the best of ideas. He coughed and wheezed for a bit, trying to get back his breath. Still, he was lasting a lot longer than usual. All those lessons had obviously paid off.

_"But why don't you speak Elwýnllambe? Surely your parents taught you."_ Mel wanted to know.

Piecing together the meaning, Harry was silent. He had no idea how to tell the other elf that his parents were dead. Or, maybe he did. He tilted his head slightly and drew a finger across his neck in a crude representation of death. He felt foolish and a bit disrespectful doing it, but it was the only thing he could think of. Either way, it got the meaning across well, because Meldir's eyes widened and he ducked his head, muttering a quick _"Oh, I'm sorry."_

Harry shrugged, holding up a single finger. _"When one year old."_ He offered in explanation, hoping that Meldir would understand that it didn't really bother him to talk about it.

_"Who were they? Elves that lived in the human realm. It's so strange."_ Mel muttered, uncertain as to whether he should be asking, but curious all the same. Harry watched him glance at him and quickly look away again.

Suddenly, Harry began to wonder why Meldir was automatically assuming he was elven. Just because he was here, in the elven realm? Were humans really so rare?

_"How do you know elves?"_ Harry demanded, watching the other dark-haired boy closely. _"How you know not human?"_

Meldir blinked and shrugged. _"I don't...wait!" _He suddenly exclaimed, stiffening and looking at Harry intently. He stumbled briefly, having lost his footing and exhaled loudly. Harry slowed down to wait for him to catch up again. _"You're part human?"_ Mel finally exclaimed, eyes raking over Harry's form like he was some sort of alien from Mars - which, truth be told, to an elf, a human probably _was_ like an alien from Mars.

Harry suddenly had a picture of himself with large bug-like eyes and a bulbous green head with skinny arms and legs. He snorted.

_"No,"_ he finally managed, now extremely out of breath and feeling like he'd been running forever. Still, the conversation kept his mind off his burning muscles. _"Both elves." Unfortunately_, he added silently. _And even _that's_ under debate._

_"Good," _Meldir exhaled, _"I thought so."_

Harry looked at him and shook his head in exasperation, however, this made sweat drip into his eyes. Yelping slightly, he reached up and rubbed across his face and forehead with the back of his hand, trying to get the salty liquid off. He wiped his hand on his opposite sleeve and the reached up to run a hand through his hair, which was getting a bit damp as well. He couldn't keep it steady and it caught on his ear. Harry cursed and rubbed at the tip, soothing it. He didn't remember his ears being so sensitive before.

_"I think we can stop now,"_ Meldir told him.

Harry nodded absently and slowed down to a walk when the other boy did as well. He reached his hand up to his ear again, rubbing the tip and frowning.

_Something's funny_, he thought. He kept rubbing it absently, trying to figure out what it was.

_"Hurt your ear?"_ Meldir asked him, gesturing to his own ear to illustrate and brushing it slightly - it twitched - an endless source of amusement for Harry. Elf ears were so different from human ones. They probably heard better, felt more acutely, and had a wider range of movement than human ears. He tried to move his own experimentally.

Harry stumbled.

_Huh?_ He thought.

He moved his ear again, but sure enough the whole thing quivered and moved up and down. Slowly, he felt along the length of his ear - all four inches of it.

_"Are you all right?" _Mel was asking him, hovering next to him uncertainly.

Harry stared ahead blankly. Four inches? His ear wasn't four inches. It didn't move. He'd never had such an easy time speaking before. For that matter, since when had he gained so much stamina to be able to hold a conversation like that while running?

He blinked in shock. And where were his glasses? How was he seeing so perfectly without his glasses? All the bright colours and sounds? And how could he even forget them in the first place?

Nothing added up.

He dropped his hand and brought the other one up to feel his other ear.

_Four inches…_

It twitched.

He vaguely registered Meldir dragging Melcacrist over, exclaiming that something was wrong with him.

_"Who is this again?"_ Melcacrist peered into his face, but Harry's eyes didn't focus on him, or register his words.

_"Araëmel, he says his name is Araëmel."_

Melcacrists eyes widened as they stared into Harry's.

_"_Araëmel_?" _He asked in shock.

Harry lowered his hand again and nodded his head dumbly. Melcacrist cursed, staring at Harry in wonder.

_"When…?"_ He choked.

_"Yesterday,"_ said Harry dazedly, mind frantically whirling. Did this mean that the spell had worked? That all those pains last night and this morning were the spell getting rid of his "skin"? Why hadn't he noticed? Was it because he had been in denial over noticing, rationalising everything off instead of taking note of the small details? He ran over his morning in his head and could have hit himself for his stupidity.

_"I knew, of course I knew...but now...really...amazing,"_ Melcacrist was muttering, eyes darting all over Harry.

_I'm an elf_, Harry thought, overwhelmed. _I'm really, truly Elwý. It wasn't a lie or some elaborate plot. My parents were elves. My mother was an elven princess. _And his last thought, the one that Harry had really only been humouring, but never really believing: _I'm a _prince_!_

_"Araëmel?"_ Meldir peered at him in concern.

Harry shook himself. He could deal with this. He just needed to wait until he got back to his room to rush about in a hysterical fit.

_Deep breaths…_

_"I'm fine,"_ he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat and smiled slightly to prove his point, focusing on his surroundings. He looked around, needing something to distract him - anything to distract him.

Melcacrist seemed to read his mind, because he gave Harry an appraising look and then gestured to both him and Meldir. _"You two, you're next. Go get a practice sword."_

Harry's eyes widened. He had only just started lessons! He wasn't that good yet!

Still, fighting would take his mind off of things. He entered the fighting grounds mechanically, following Mel. He also picked up a wooden sword, which, strangely enough, gave him a feeling of familiarity and solidity in his currently upside-down world.

_"Good luck,"_ Mel muttered, giving Harry a sympathetic look. It was obvious that the other elf thought that Harry didn't know enough sword fighting to put up much of a fight (which was true) but Harry was nothing if not inventive and resilient - he would go down kicking and screaming.

His mind now focused on a goal, everything else got pushed to the sidelines and he centred himself, prepared for the fight. It started out hesitantly, earning them both a series of insults and yells. Meldir was testing the waters, trying to gauge Harry's fighting prowess. Harry met all his jabs and thrusts evenly, blocking each one and even trying a few himself. He kept himself on the balls of his feet. Fighting and defending was something he'd been doing for so long that the instincts were ingrained in him.

But, this time something was different. He knew that it had to do with being an elf, because he was twice as good than he remembered being. His reflexes were faster and his muscles stronger. He felt lighter on his feet and was able move quickly. His eyes could pick up far more detail and his hearing was superb. It was a startling difference and at first it caught Harry off guard. He almost let Meldir through his guard, but managed to dodge just in time. After that he adjusted quickly and forced his new acquaintance to up the pace and begin fighting in earnest.

The exchange wore on, and the insults and yelling became a sort of background buzzing noise that Harry barely registered. Yet, he must have been keeping an ear open, because one particular word struck a cord.

_Mother_. Someone had insulted his mother.

He broke away from Meldir, leaping out the way with a frightening grace. The other elf paused, uncertain as to whether or not to attack - Harry took the opportunity to turn his head and glare into the crowd, trying to search out a guilty face. It seemed he needn't have worried, Melcacrist was already rounding on the culprit, bellowing at him to run laps and never insult Harry's mother again.

Meldir watched him wearily, keeping his guard up and panting slightly.

_"Who is your mother?"_ He asked wonderingly, glancing at the now running elf.

Harry growled, still angry. _No one_ insulted his mother. He attacked viscously without answering, taking his fury out on the other's sword. Mel stumbled, his eyes wide, but quickly re-gained his footing. The battle resumed with increased intensity.

_"Whoa, Araëmel!" _Meldir cried, failing under the onslaught.

Harry's cheeks burned in anger and his whole body trembled. Everything was just too much! He couldn't take this anymore!

He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes and froze in mid-blow. Meldir froze too and watched him wearily. Abruptly Harry turned around, dropping the practise sword on the ground. His shoulders heaved and he had to reign in his trembling. He walked dazedly to the side lines, passing a gaping Meldir and a now silent class.

_Why, why, why, why…_

Harry leapt over the fence without even realising it, or how he'd managed it, and looked around. He needed somewhere quiet and isolated, somewhere where he could scream and cry and throw a fit and no one would bother him. His breathing hitched and air caught in his throat.

_Calm down, not yet...but why? Why me? _

Tears threatened to spill.

_"Araëmel, what are you doing?"_ Melcacrist pushed his way through his students, brow creased in anger.

Harry shook his head. _"No."_

_"Get back in there,"_ his teacher commanded, pointing to the practise ring.

_"No,"_ Harry muttered again, eyes frantically scanning the forest he could see behind the barracks. Maybe in there he could find someplace quiet? He turned and began to walk off, still trying to regulate his breathing and not break down in front of everyone.

_"Don't turn your back on me when I'm speaking to you!"_ Melcacrist sounded really angry now.

"Leave me alone!" Harry bit out angrily, sounding panicked.

_"Hey you! Who do you think you are?"_ Suddenly someone was grabbing Harry's shoulder and yanking him around.

Harry's head whipped to the side and he stared at the glaring face of a blond-haired elf. The blond's green eyes burned holes in Harry's own, but Harry didn't care. He jerked out of the elf's grip and glared back.

"Don't touch me!" He spat, chest heaving.

The elf's face held a moment of confusion before the anger was back and he raised a hand to jab Harry in the chest.

"I said, don't _touch_ me!" Harry yanked his wand from his waist band and held it shakily in between them. The other boy stared at it blankly.

_"Stop this right now."_ Melcacrist hurried forward, standing to the side and giving Harry fierce looks.

_"No!"_ said the other elf, _"He's acting like he's the goddamn King himself! He shouldn't be able to get away with this!"_

Harry didn't hear, or if he did, his brain barely processed the words. He could feel his magic building and stirring within him, and was fighting to keep it contained. He needed to get out of here. The pressure was too much. He need to scream and rant and lash out, but not around anyone else. He began to back away. The other elf made as if to grab him, and Harry reacted.

He didn't even know how he did it, only that he did. His arm came up and his wand went arching down. He didn't say any spells, or think of anything in particular, only that he wanted the other teen _away_ from him.

The elf went flying, only stopping when he crashed into his fellow peers. Harry breathed heavily as he stared at what he'd caused. Then, he turned around and ran.

He had to get away.

Moments after he turned, the tears started coming, and Harry let them fly as he ran. Behind him he could hear the chaos he'd caused increasing as everyone began to scream and yell at each other all at once.

He didn't care, he just had to get out of there.

* * *

**AN: **Well, here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. And uh...sorry about the cliffhanger-ish ending again? ^^;; I'm afraid I have a rather bad habit of ending chapters in cliffhangers!

So, I'm sure you were all wondering when this was finally going to happen and when Harry was finally going to have a mental breakdown from it all. Well, here it is. I hope I kept him mostly in character here...and made his obliviousness seem believable too!

Oh, and just as a quick note: Anything in italics is elvish and anything in normal text is English...and no, I didn't make any mistakes, so when Harry doesn't speak using italics...that means no one can understand him. Heh.

So, I don't think I have any glaring plot holes this time, not like last time, which as I said, I have gone back and fixed, so thank you so much to my reviewers for pointing these things out or just giving me their thoughts in general, it's so helpful! :) And look, I updated pretty soon...right? Reviews make me happy **coughs**hinthint**coughs**.

Anyway, I've got the next chapter planned and I think some people are going to like it and some people are going to be "wtf?". haha. But hey, this is _my _fic...and I can make it as cheesy as I want to! (So long as the cheesiness stays mostly in character and has no gaping plot holes).

So, let me know what you think! Thanks and see you next time.

Oh, and Happy New Year everyone! (Even if I _did_ sleep through it...whoops...)

Ria


	7. Memories

**Chapter 7:  
**

Harry headed into the woods. He slowed to a walk in the stables and then broke into a run again as soon as he was inside the concealing safety of the trees. He didn't really know where he was going, just somewhere where he could vent. So he dodged roots and branches, going deeper and deeper.

Eventually he stopped and looked up at the canopy. The trees were bigger here and only let some light through, throwing everything into shadow. Yet, Harry found he could still see perfectly - just another indication of his inhumanness. He sucked in a shuddering breath and released it, clenching his hands into fists.

Then, he opened his mouth and _screamed_.

"ARGHHHHH!!!!!"

His fists swung out, slamming against the bark of a nearby tree. He did it again, despite the pain.

"Merlin," he swore, "why me? Why is it always me?"

He clenched his fists, feeling them pulse with hurt. The wind began to pick up around him, swirling the leaves off the ground.

"Why?!" He screamed at the canopy of leaves. "It's always Harry goddamn Potter! Why can't I just be normal? Why is everything so messed up?"

The winds swirled higher and Harry noticed them. They increased in tempo with his rage. He wished they would lash out for him, draining away his anger. As if reading his thoughts, the air swirled into a tornado, whipping his clothes and hair; stinging his cheeks. Somehow the harshness and pain made him feel better.

_More_, he thought.

The winds increased further, now visible as bits of dirt and leaves got caught up in the heavy air. Ropes of swirling dust began to lash out, stripping any nearby trees of bark in long, wide slashes. They tore through roots and made deep gashes in the earth. Harry stood in the middle, feeding them with his rage and despair, yet not quite controlling them, nor understanding how they came to be.

Eventually though, the gale began to die down, the winds abating as Harry exhausted himself. He felt his anger disappear until he was simply feeling hollow inside. The last of the winds vanished, leaving vivid signs of their presence, but Harry didn't care. He collapsed against a tree and put his head on his knees.

_How did I do that?_ He wondered. Memories flashed across his mind's eye, images of elves using some strange air pressure to manipulate things around them. Perhaps it was that.

He held up his hand, staring at it and imagining that his magic was swirling in the air, creating a breeze. Nothing happened and Harry felt relief. Maybe it had been a fluke? Just to be sure, he tried to lift a leaf without using his wand, pointing a long finger at it and imagining that he was performing _Wingardium Leviosa_ on it. He felt a small surge of power, and then the leaf was rising shakily into the air. Harry twitched his fingers and the leaf shot to the side. He twitched them again, trying to imagine it back where it was previously. The leaf floated down and settled back on the dirt. He stared at it unhappily.

_More proof_, he thought bitterly._ I just can't believe it_. _I guess I'd still held out a little on the fact that everything might have been a really long dream, or maybe a prank, or even a mistake. But now...now this proves everything._

He brought his hands up to his his face and gazed at them blankly. They weren't his hands. The fingers were longer and thinner. At least his skin colour was the same. But, how could he have missed that when he was bathing? He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. And for that matter, how could he have not noticed how good his hearing was now? He opened his eyes and stared at the tree across from him, taking in it's every detail - the long gouges and the slight oozing of tree sap.

That was the most obvious one. How could he have missed that? His eye sight was perfect! He hadn't even worn glasses that morning, so how could he have forgotten about them? Had he really been that out of it? That disconnected?

He reached up and felt his ear again, wondering at the fact that he could feel his fingers touching something that hadn't used to be a part of his body. Three extra inches of flesh mysteriously appearing and he hadn't noticed that either.

Harry would bet his entire vault at Gringotts that Hermione would have noticed immediately. Even Ron, who was generally rather unobservant, would have realised the changes. He let out a hollow laugh.

"You're such an idiot Harry," he told himself amidst the eery silence - all the birds had been scared away by his earlier fit.

He thumped his head once on the tree, looking up at the branches and the dim sunlight. Why was it always him? First he was an orphan and his relatives would rather not have him. Then, he was a wizard, but he couldn't be just any wizard - no, he had to be the Boy-Who-Lived; famous Harry Potter. Now, he was an elf on top of it all.

"And you can't just be a normal elf either," he muttered, "you have to be the Merlin forsaken _Crown Prince_." He laughed bitterly. "Crown Prince Araëmel, one day to ascend the throne of the elves. King Araëmel. Ha!"

Harry froze.

Crown Prince. He was the _Crown Prince_.

He'd never really thought much on it before. He'd simply accepted it as another insane part of his life, but now it finally occurred to him what the words "crown prince" meant. They meant that he wasn't just any prince, he was the heir; the next in line.

Face paling rapidly, Harry swallowed. "I'm going to be _King_."

Oh sweet Merlin!

He said the only thing appropriate to a situation such that he found himself in now: "_Shit_."

And then he proceeded to laugh hysterically. Everything was really too much. He'd held out hope that he would be sent back to his nice, normal life as the wizarding-world's hero (and what an oxymoron that was! Since when had being the Boy-Who-Lived ever been normal?), but now that hope was crushed. Now he really was a part of this world. He was an elf - an other-realm immortal being of magic.

Harry hiccuped and gasped for breath, his laughing starting to turn into angry moans. He punched the dirt beneath his hand, glaring at it when it began to smart.

"Fuck," he swore, for the third time that day.

He let his head drop between his knees again, trying to block out everything, but even that was denied him when he felt his new ears brush harshly against his knees. If he stayed like that, he wouldn't be able to ignore their presence.

A sudden, sad thought came to him. _What would Sirius do?_

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of his beloved godfather - his greatest connection to his parents and to love.

"Are you up there somewhere Sirius, watching me? Are Mum and Dad with you? What would you do?" He spoke out loud to the air feeling slightly foolish, but at the same time like he was actually communicating with the man.

_I bet he'd take it all in stride, then use his new position and powers to cause even more havoc._ The thought made him smile. _Then, he'd give Voldemort hell_.

Harry's head jerked up, eyes snapping open. Voldemort. That's right; he still had to get rid of Voldemort and take revenge for his parents' - and now Sirius's - death.

"Look on the bright side Harry. You have new powers now to use against Voldemort." He continued to try and talk himself through his slump. "Maybe this is 'the power the Dark Lord knows not'."

He contemplated the idea for a while. Maybe he should learn as much as he could so he could use it against Voldemort and finally rid the world of his evil? Suddenly, the image of hundreds of battle ready elves preparing to engage Voldemort's few (in comparison) death eaters in battle popped into his head. A small smile tugged at his lips. That would certainly put a damper in the Dark Lord's plans for world domination!

He laughed, this time truly amused. He could picture the look on Voldemort's face as he gaped at the legion of battle-hardened warriors, all who could wield magic and rip his forces in two. Not to mention the elves would have centuries of experience on the death eaters, giving them twice the advantage. It was a nice thought.

Harry rested his head against torn bark and stared vacantly at the trees. Could he accept it then? That he was an elf? An _Elwý?_ It could bring so many advantages. And what about his parents? Would denying his heritage be denying them? If his parents were still alive, wouldn't they have already told him? Would he have grown up knowing he was different and accepting it?

Probably.

So, could he accept it now?

"It's just like discovering you were a wizard," he told himself. "You were always supposed to know, but circumstances prevented it. This is the exact same thing. Just accept it."

His little pep talk didn't exactly reassure him, but Harry felt that he was on the right path. If he calmed down and simply watched and observed, he was sure he could grow to accept being an elf, just like he had accepted being a wizard.

Wait, did this mean he was no longer a wizard? He pursed his lips, thinking about it, but couldn't really decide yes or no.

Suddenly he heard the crunching of footsteps. Harry straightened and turned his head, staring into the trees leading back to the palace. Someone was coming.

He expected them to come into his view any second, judging from the noise, but the crunching continued and he still didn't see anyone. Eventually though, a figure emerged from around a tree and continued cautiously. Harry marvelled at how far away he'd initially been able to hear the elf.

The elf froze for a second and swore something. Harry recognised Meldir's voice and glanced at his face to confirm it. Meldir hurried forward into the small clearing, glancing around him in shock.

_"Araëmel, did you do this?"_ He asked in astonishment, eyes wide and ears twitching slightly with nervousness.

Harry looked around him uncomfortably, realising what the scene looked liked. Not to mention he'd much rather be alone at the moment.

Meldir stopped in front of him. _"Are you all right?"_

Harry sighed. _"Why are you here?"_

Meldir flushed slightly. _"Uh, Melcacrist told me to come after you. He seemed really anxious and angry. I can't believe you did that. But why were you so angry? What's wrong?"_

Meldir's small speech almost didn't make it past Harry's comprehension. He had to struggle to understand, and this started to make him upset again. Everything would be so much easier if he could just communicate! Why couldn't he learn the language faster? Why couldn't he have already known it? He bet his parents would have taught him if they were still - no, that was a bad train of thought.

Harry gave a frustrated sigh. Was there some conceivable way to learn faster? He wondered if he could drag up any of his earliest memories. Maybe they would help him.

_"Araëmel?"_

Harry grew more frustrated. He wanted to speak. He wanted to tell Meldir that he wanted to be left alone - to go back and tell Melcacrist that he was fine and to just leave him be - but he couldn't. He didn't know all the words. He clutched his head in vexation.

_Think Harry! Think!_ What were the words? He tried to rack his brain, but time and time again he came up blank. Meldir was growing slightly concerned, but Harry tuned him out. There was no point trying to reassure the other elf - how could he anyway?

"Dammit!" He cursed, glaring angrily at the dirt.

Why couldn't things be simpler? Why couldn't the elves speak English? He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate again.

_Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate…_

The word became a mantra, and without realising it, Harry blocked out Meldir's anxious pacing and worried mutters, slipping into a mild form of Occulmency. In this state, a memory started to appear in front of him and Harry concentrated harder. A beautiful face swam into view - cascading auburn hair and sparkling green eyes and a wide, wide smile. An elf, eerily similar to the Queen.

_Mum…_Harry realised with a start. The large face bent over him, cooing and smiling.

_"Oh, Astawl, I still can't get over how perfect he is! Hello my little one,"_ she half sung, her voice more beautiful than Harry could ever have imagined. She spoke _Elwýnllambe_ yet somehow Harry knew the meaning behind her words, even if a few of them were unfamiliar to him. It was as if he could read her implications with his mind - like they had a connection. _"Hello my little Araëmel."_

Harry gave a start. She had called him Araëmel.

_She really did name me that. I guess it's not such a bad name…_

A new face appeared. Another elf, but this one with warm chocolate eyes and messy dark hair. He grinned down at Harry and stuck his finger near Harry's face. Harry watched as small hands that could only belong to him reached up and grasped the finger.

_"I wish we didn't have to give him the potion so soon, but we can't put it off any longer. I know we're in hiding, but Sirius really wants to meet his godson."_ Harry's father murmured to his wife as he played with Harry's small hands.

_"I know Astawl - James. I'm just glad we were able to convince them that it would be too dangerous to go to St. Mungos. I'm glad I was able to give birth out of my skin, and stop Araëmel from being discovered." _Lily stroked Harry's head and he suddenly felt an overwhelming warmth and love. He smiled.

_"It's been a month though. You've brewed the potion?_ _Prepared the spell?"_

James (Astawl?) nodded his head and drew away from Harry. Harry tried to reach out and grab him to bring him back, but he didn't succeed.

_"I'm so sorry we have to do this Araëmel,"_ Harry's mum told him sadly. _"I hate to deprive you of your true body and self, but you'll understand in the future. I'm doing this for your happiness. This way you'll be happy. No Elwý and no Mother. No horrible lessons and veiled cruelty and prejudice. Our race aren't all they claim to be my son. Besides, if you're anything like me-"_ here, Lily wrinkled her nose and made a face at him, winking when she was done. Harry heard himself giggle, _"-then you won't even want to rule. No more crowns in this family."_

Harry still didn't know how he could understand everything. Perhaps it was his magic reacting to his memories and his knowledge as baby, combined with what he knew now, but either way he understood a fair amount of what his mother was saying, mostly through meanings and images, but he understood all the same. Was that how a _Elwý _baby's brain worked? It was strange.

Some of the things Lily said disturbed him a little, but it confirmed his original thoughts that his parents were really elves and that he would have grown up as one too, under a human guise.

Lily moved out of view, leaving Harry laying wherever he was and the memory started to fade. He tried to cling to it, begging his mother to come back, to give him more moments basking in her presence and love, but it was no use. The memory faded completely.

_No, no, no! Come back!_ Harry reached out desperately, trying to bring it back up again. It didn't appear, but instead something else began to take form. _It's Sirius_, Harry realised with shock. The man was laying across from him, grinning at him as Harry took small, uncertain steps towards him.

"Come on!" Sirius was crowing. "You can do it Harry!"

Harry wobbled and almost fell over.

_Sirius_, he thought, _I'm so sorry_. His godfather looked so happy in this memory, better and healthier than he'd ever seen him before - younger too.

Finally, Harry made it to Sirius's face and reached out with slightly larger hands than last time to grasp handfuls of the man's hair.

"Hey! Ow! Jaaames! Your kid is ripping out my hair! Harry!"

An amused snort came from behind Harry, but he didn't turn around to look, though he knew instinctively that it was his father.

"Suck it up, be a man Sirius!"

Sirius glared over Harry's shoulder, though he was too busy tugging on the black locks to really pay attention to his godfather's facial expression. Big hands came up and tried to gently dislodge his grip. Harry tightened his own hands in response, but he was no match for Sirius and eventually his little fingers were pried off.

Sirius sat up, keeping his head carefully out of reach.

"Come 'ere you," he grumbled good-heartedly, scooping Harry up and depositing him into his lap. Now Harry was facing the other way and he was finally able to see his father as he sat in an arm chair, an amused smile on his face.

Harry opened his mouth. "Ada!" he exclaimed happily. With a start, older Harry realised that he was using the Elvish word for 'daddy' instead of the English.

James grinned at him. "That's right," he said proudly. "I'm your Daddy."

"I never get why he says 'a-da' and not just 'da' or 'dada' like _normal_ children Prongs," said Sirius's rumbling voice from somewhere behind Harry's head.

James shrugged and said, "Beats me."

Harry mentally laughed. His father knew very well why Harry called him 'ada' instead of 'dada.'

"Come on little pronglet, say my name! Say Sirius!" Sirius cajoled, leaning over Harry's head so when he looked up, he was staring into the man's large face above him.

Harry grinned and went, "Pada!"

Sirius sighed, "Always with the 'pada'."

James laughed.

"All right you two," a new voice said, "it's time for Harry to go to bed."

Lily entered the room, coming into Harry's line of sight when she came to stand behind her husband. James looked up at her and she smiled lovingly down at him. Behind Harry, Sirius began to make gagging noises. Lily looked up with a scowl, sticking her tongue out at Sirius in a surprisingly childish gesture.

"That's it you, out you go! Come back tomorrow."

"Aw, James! Lily's kicking me out! Are you going to stand for that?" Sirius whined.

Harry giggled and reached up, grabbing the end of his godfather's long-ish hair.

"Ack! Shit!"

"Sirius Orion Black!" Lily shrieked. "Watch your language!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Sirius tried to make Harry let go again.

"I think Harry likes your hair Sirius." James was laughing again.

_I think so too_, Harry thought privately. Really though, it was quite amusing watching his godfather act so cuddly and carefree while he was simultaneously made fun of from three sides.

Sirius got Harry's fingers out of his hair for the second time and picked the baby up and placed him on the floor. He quickly stood up and stared down at Harry. As a baby, Sirius really towered over him.

"Bye bye pada," said Harry, astonishing himself.

Sirius shook his head. "I'll say it again, and I'll keep saying it, but that kid is creepy smart."

Lily and James shared a secret smile.

"Bye bye then Prongslet," Sirius said, twiddling his fingers at Harry and making a face. Harry silently laughed at his godfather's silly display. "G'nite James, Lily. I'll see you tomorrow I suppose. I'm looking forward to that cake you promised you'd make for Harry's birthday."

It was July 30th, Harry realised.

Sirius began to leave, and too late Harry tried to stop him from leaving.

_Wait Sirius,_ he tried to call, but of course nothing happened, _don't go yet! I still want to see you!_

Sirius vanished through the floo and then it was just the three of them. Harry stood up again and tried to make his way over to his parents. Lily moved from behind the chair and swiftly came to pick him up. She held him in her arms and Harry felt warm and safe.

"Nana," he murmured sleepily, suddenly feeling tired. 'Nana' was the elvish word for mummy.

Lily smiled and kissed the top of his head. _"That's right, my little one. I'm your nana. You're learning so fast, aren't you?"_ She said the words perfectly, without a twinge of accent, and Harry wondered how she could when Aunt Petunia couldn't. Or he couldn't.

_"That's my boy," _said James proudly, coming to stand with them. Harry peered at him drowsily.

_"He's tired. I'm going to get him into bed. Can you do the dishes?"_

James pouted. _"Do I have to?"_

_"Yes, you do,"_ Lily said, sounding mildly amused.

_"Goodnight then little man. Sleep tight. Ada loves you." _James kissed Harry's head, and in his mind Harry had to blink back tears.

'_Ada loves you._' Such a simple phrase, but it meant the world to Harry. He was sure that this was his happiest memory yet.

_"I wonder if he's going to start getting confused about which language to speak, or what his name is when he gets old enough,"_ James mussed, stroking Harry's cheek with a finger. Harry reached up to grasp it, then he stuck it in his mouth. James grimaced. Lily chuckled.

_"You know he's still teething,"_ she said. _"But our little Araëmel is smart. He'll figure it out in no time."_

_I'm not smart_, Harry thought to himself as he continued to chew on his father's finger.

_Aren't you?_ A niggling little voice at the back of his head said. _How many other third years could have performed a Patronus like that, and in such short a time? Or figured out the secret of the Chamber?_

_Hermione figured it out first_, he argued back.

_Ah, but that's Hermione. We're talking about _you.

_Okay Harry, stop talking to yourself_, he ordered.

_"Let's get you up to bed then,"_ Lily was saying.

Harry wholeheartedly agreed, because he was feeling really, really sleepy. James disappeared, moving past them into what could only be the kitchen, and Harry watched him go sadly, wishing he would come back. Lily moved in the opposite direction though, heading for some stairs.

Harry's eyes drooped shut.

_Wait,_ he thought, _open them back up. _But his little body didn't respond and they stayed shut. Only the feel of his mother's arms around him, holding him up, still reassured him that she was there.

But then suddenly something was shaking him. His head jerked back and there was pressure on his shoulders as two hands grasped him, pushing him back and forth. Harry was pulled abruptly from his memories, the fog around his mind clearing as he blinked open his eyes and stared into the anxious face of Meldir.

_"Come on Araëmel! What's wrong with you? Answer me!"_

_"Stop,"_ Harry said, pulling out of the other boy's grasp.

Meldir sat back on his heels, obviously relieved.

_"Oh good," _he said, _"I was worried about you, you just sort of went quiet and didn't respond. I thought something bad had happened."_

_"I'm fine,"_ said Harry crossly, barely even registering the other elf's words.

Meldir peered into his eyes and frowned. _"Are you okay?"_

_"I said I was fine didn't I?"_ Harry snapped automatically, only wincing afterwards when he saw the hurt expression that crossed Mel's face.

_"Sorry,"_ Mel mumbled, _"I was only trying to help. I thought we were sort of friends."_

Harry's guilt grew. It was true that Meldir had only been trying to help and had been concerned. Harry shouldn't have snapped like that.

_"It's fine. I'm sorry. I'm just having a bad day. Of course we can be friends."_ After all, it wouldn't hurt to have a new friend, especially since he couldn't currently contact Ron or Hermione.

Meldir's face split into a grin.

_"Great!"_ He enthused. _"You don't mind about my parents though, right?"_

Harry stared blankly.

_"What?"_ he asked.

_"My parents," _Meldir flushed slightly, _"they're-"_ here he said a word Harry didn't recognise, _"so I'm glad you don't mind. No one else really wants to associate with me because I'm so low down, only a few."_ Harry's expression must have been conveying his shock and distaste at this, because Meldir hurried on. _"Not that they're really _mean_ or anything, they're just not my friends. I only really get along with a few of them, and they're in the same position as I am, like Taswa. We got in by testing or appealing to Melcacrist's better graces."_

This explained a little, but not an awful lot. Harry sighed, but then pasted on a smile for Meldir's benefit, so as to assure the other elf that Harry really didn't mind. Meldir smiled back, then fell silent. He seemed to hesitate, then sat down fully and stared at Harry seriously.

_"Do you want to talk about it?"_ He asked.

Harry's lips thinned. _"Talk about what?"_

Meldir gave him a 'look' and gestured around them at the ruined clearing and the torn trees. _"This,"_ he said.

Harry opened his mouth to tell him no, then thought better of it and closed it again. How

could he let Meldir down gently - tell him that he didn't want to talk, but be nice about it?

_"I wouldn't be able to even if I wanted to,"_ he finally said. _"Remember? My Elwýnllambe is only really basic."_

Meldir looked at him like he was crazy. Harry wondered why and then thought about their conversation of the past minute. The entire thing had been in _Elwýnllambe, _and he'd understood and spoken perfectly.

Harry blinked.

_What?_

He pinched his arm. Nope, he was still sitting there, staring at a puzzled Mel.

But how was it possible? Could it have been the memories? Had all his baby knowledge come to the fore by remembering those memories? But that still didn't make sense. He couldn't have known _that_ many words as a baby, nor the proper grammar. So how had he done it? This was a question for Quenah. But in the meantime, his language issue was clearly fixed and now he had no excuse to not talk to Meldir.

Harry sighed.

_"All right, fine," _he mumbled. _"What do you want to know?"_

Meldir looked slightly uncomfortable and he shrugged. _"I, uh, don't really know. Maybe you should start with why you were so angry. Was it because Déluaë_ _insulted your mother? It seemed like there was something was wrong before that."_

Harry assumed that Déluaë was the elf he'd seen running laps.

_"Yeah. I was. I was upset."_

_"Why?"_

Harry hesitated, but Meldir was acting really sincere, and it would probably help to talk about his problems. _"I had just figured it out about my appearance. Up until, well, this morning I guess, I'd been human. I was in a 'skin' which I'd been in my whole life, so it was...I guess a little _

_scary."_

_"Wow,"_ said Mel, eyes wide, _"So you weren't used to having your real body? That's got to be different."_

Harry blushed. _"Well, to be truthful, I never even knew I was Elwý up until a week ago."_

Meldir's eyes widened further and his pupils seemed to expand almost completely in his surprise, until they were completely round. _"How could you not know? I couldn't imagine thinking I was _human_!"_

_"I told you my parents died when I was one, right? No one else knew except my aunt, and she never told me."_ Harry felt uncomfortable and wished he hadn't started to talk in the first place.

Meldir's eyes stayed wide and he shook his head in astonishment. _"I still can't believe it! Was it awful?"_

_"What?"_ Harry exclaimed. _"No, of course not! Why would you think that? I just wasn't ready for it. It was a surprise. A big surprise. Imagine someone telling you you were, oh, human for example, and then suddenly whisking you away to the human realm and changing your body." _He ran a hand through his hair, once again accidentally hitting his ear in the process, as he kept forgetting it was there. _"Not to mention, on top of it all they tell you…"_ Harry suddenly trailed off, realising that he probably shouldn't mention the rest of the story. What would Meldir do or say if he found out Harry was a prince? No, it was best to keep quiet about that and be as normal as possible.

_"Tell you what?"_ Meldir prompted after it was clear Harry wasn't going to elaborate.

_"Nothing, nevermind. It's just, when that elf insulted my mother, it was like the last straw. Everything came tumbling down and I had to get away to vent. So I came here and this was the result."_ Harry hoped that new information would distract his new friend from prying further.

It appeared to work because Meldir seemed satisfied. He sat back and made a sighing noise, telling Harry that at least he was feeling better after all that, right? Harry nodded to this and Mel smiled. Then he stood up and offered a hand.

_"Shall we go back?"_

Harry thought about it. Did he really want to go back? Not really, was the answer. He shook his head 'no.'

_"Sorry, but I'd like to stay here for a while, but I think you should go back. Why don't you go tell Melcacrist not to worry and that I'll be back for lessons like usual, just not today." _

Mel hesitated, as if he didn't want to leave Harry alone on his own, but obviously the thought that he needed to get back to his lessons won out, because he agreed and told Harry to take care, before turning and heading back. He cast one last concerned glance over his shoulder at Harry before he stepped out of sight, and Harry sent him a smile to reassure him, but as soon as the other's figure disappeared out of sight, he let it drop. He sighed, scuffing a boot in the dirt and wondering what he was going to do now. He could stay here and wallow in his thoughts, or he could go back to the castle and maybe work on some homework. Or he could go find Quenah.

Harry didn't know what he was going to do yet, but he made up his mind that he didn't want to stay in the ruined clearing any longer and got up, brushing off his pants and shirt. He would head towards the palace and decide on the way.

* * *

Perhaps it was coincidence, or perhaps it wasn't, but when Harry emerged from the trees, there was Quenah, heading towards the training grounds. He had to blink a few times, just to check that he was seeing things correctly, then he called out.

"_Quenahgóla_!"

Quenah stopped and turned around, eyes landing on Harry with a puzzled frown. Harry hurried forward.

"_What are you doing down here?_"he asked, not even realising he was speaking in Elvish, rather than English.

"_I do not believe I know you,"_ said Quenah, studying Harry and his dishevelled appearance.

Harry remembered his new appearance and wondered if he could have some fun with his friend. How long would it take Quenah to figure it out?

He widened his eyes and tried to look hurt as he said, "_What do you mean?"_

Quenah blushed and Harry could almost see the cogs whirling as he tried to figure out where he'd seen Harry before.

_"My apologies, I simply cannot recall,"_ he finally sighed.

_"How could you forget?"_ Asked Harry, wounded. He crossed his arms and frowned.

_"Perhaps you could refresh my memory?"_

Harry rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Quenah really had no clue. Perhaps a hint was in order.

_"A week ago, remember?" _

Quenah shifted subtly from one foot to the other, glancing over his shoulder at the training grounds, before muttering another appropriately apologetic phrase.

_"What are you doing here?"_ Harry asked again, wondering if the older elf would answer him.

_"I am on business."_ Quenah neatly avoided the question.

Obviously Harry, as someone Quenah supposedly didn't know, had no right to ask such a question. He seemed to be uncomfortable with Harry's extremely familiar manner as well.

_"If you'll excuse me."_ Quenah was trying to edge away, taking a few steps in the direction of the barracks.

Harry grinned and happily exclaimed, _"I'll come with you then, if you don't mind."_

Quenah didn't know quite how to respond to that. It was obvious Harry had never been taught proper manners, because his impertinence was astounding. Inwardly Harry was laughing at how flustered his friend was getting and the fact that he was still being so polite.

_"I am sure you have something you would rather be doing. A lesson perhaps? My business will take some time."_ It was a subtle dismissal - Harry ignored it.

_"Oh no, that's fine. What is it, if it's going to take so long?"_

Quenah made a very exasperated noise in the back of his throat that wasn't intended to be the least bit subtle this time. Then, he turned around and started walking away quickly, most likely hoping to lose Harry before he decided to follow. However, Harry had never really had any intention of following Quenah, seeing as he really wanted to avoid Melcacrist and his class at the moment, so he stayed where he was.

"_Quenah!"_ he called at the other's turned back.

Quenah stiffened and whipped around, eyes wide. He started at Harry, finally really looking at him. As far as Harry knew, no one but him called Quenahgóla 'Quenah'. He waited for his friend to figure it out.

"H-Harry?" The silver-haired elf asked, shocked. He hurried forward until he was close enough to peer into Harry's eyes.

Harry shrugged.

"Harry, is that you?" Only Harry would have been able to understand Quenah's English and respond in kind.

So he gave his friend a crooked grin and said sheepishly, "Yeah, it is."

"My god," breathed Quenah, eyes running down Harry's changed form. "It's...I mean _how_? But...last night! I don't understand!"

"That makes both of us," Harry told him, scowling. "My best bet is that the spell had a delayed reaction, or maybe it just worked really, really slowly. It's why I was feeling bad last night."

"But of course," Quenah muttered. "What are you doing down here?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm the one that asked _you_ that."

Quenah chuckled. "Ah yes, you got me there. I was going to go inform Melcacrist of the change in plans, but I assume he already knows?"

Harry bit his lip. Melcacrist didn't know per se, but he bet the elf wasn't expecting Harry back anytime soon from the looks of things.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said.

Quenah nodded and suddenly frowned. Slowly he looked at Harry again and asked hesitantly, "_Araëmel...how can you speak Elwýnllambe so well?" _Of course, he used _Elwýnllambe _when he said this.

Harry frowned as well and shrugged his shoulders helplessly, saying, _"I have no clue, I thought you might be able to tell me_._"_

Quenah looked a little at a loss for words for a moment. His ears twitched in thought until finally he shook his head, equally as helpless.

_"I'm afraid I don't know. But what I _do_ know is that we should go to their majesties with this immediately so they can stop their research. They will be very pleased I am sure," _he said.

Harry groaned. He did _not_ want to see his grandparents. Merlin only knew what they would try and make him do now - no doubt even more classes. But then he reminded himself that he was here to learn as much as he could so that he could go back and destroy Voldemort once and for all.

Besides, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he did kind of miss the pleasant familial atmosphere that had been established before the whole mess with the 'skins' and potions. He wanted a grandmother and a grandfather who would smile at him kindly and indulge his fanciful whims - just like everyone said grandparents were supposed to be like.

Or maybe that was too much to hope for. But they were family. Surely that had to mean they could get over their differences and become comfortable around one another?

_"Okay,"_ he said, setting his shoulders and turning back towards the palace.

They took the transportation tower this time, walking quickly through the corridors, but not quite running.

The King and Queen were in the throne room, as they tended to be during the morning hours. He'd been told that in the morning they took care of official business and saw to the 'Court'. Apparently, when Harry and Petunia had come that one time, they had cleared out the throne room of aristocracy, but usually they mingled in the large hall. Then, in the afternoons, the King and Queen adjourned to more private settings and got down to running the actual kingdom; running through reports, discussing with experts and advisors. It all sounded terribly complicated and not worth it to Harry, not to mention boring. He truthfully wanted nothing to do with it, but he had yet to voice this out loud.

When they got to the throne room, Quenah had to announce himself to the guards, then he hesitated at Harry and finally told him to wait outside with the other elves hoping to enter and speak with their monarchs. Quenah apparently had precedence (most likely because he was Harry's guide and tutor), and he was ushered through straight away. Harry got a small glimpse of glittering clothes and wispy movements from within, before the large doors were shut again.

Five minutes later Quenah re-emerged and beckoned for Harry to follow him.

_"They're sending for the tailor again to meet you in your room,"_ he told Harry as they walked. _"She'll create a full wardrobe for you now."_

_"Great,"_ muttered Harry, just wishing that he could have some _normal_ clothes for once.

_"Then, you will join them for lunch,"_ continued his friend, _"and they will discuss the rest of the changes to be made now that your 'skin' is out of the way."_

This part made Harry slightly nervous - what would they do? What new things would he be expected to learn or participate in?

_No,_ he told himself firmly, _stop it. You have to be serious now. Learn as much as possible. Hone your skills, abilities and knowledge and find a way to battle Voldemort. Your life and the wizarding world depends on it._

It was a heavy thought, with much importance weighing on it and it made Harry's stomach twist. Still, perhaps this whole elf thing was a blessing in disguise. He had new powers and a better body. He'd be twice as good at duelling now than before, not to mention the ability to use other weapons and the endurance training.

They reached his rooms and Harry had to be reintroduced to the guards so they'd let him in in the future. Harry wasn't entirely sure how, but when they entered, the tailor was already there, waiting. Word must travel fast in the palace and she must have been a lot closer to the tower than Harry and Quenah.

This time when she saw Harry, she bowed low and didn't give him strange looks, only an appropriately professional face. She made Harry stand on a stool again as she measured him and held up scraps of fabric to his skin and eyes. It took a lot longer than last time because she had to take more measurements and make more decisions for a full-fledged wardrobe rather than just a few outfits. Harry stood through the whole thing patiently, holding back his desire to sigh every so often. At least she wasn't poking and prodding him with pins like Madam Malkin sometimes did.

When she finally left, Harry collapsed back in a chair and finally sighed, long and loudly. Quenah chuckled.

"Exhausted?" He asked with amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Well, then, your highness, might I suggest in the meantime we review _Elwýntencelle?_"

Harry perked up. The Elvish writing system was just so _cool_ looking. He couldn't wait to finally be able to write in it.

"Yeah," he agreed.

* * *

**AN: **Wow, this was a quick update. Actually, I wanted to get this out soon because of the lovely response to the last chapter...and mostly because I was so bored out of my mind trying to do my Japanese coursework (aka the Translation of Doom) that I ended up doing this instead. Gotta love long, boring translations which are impossible to understand, let alone put into coherent English.

Since I did this so quickly, it might not be up to my usual standards, so if there's a huge amount of typos and mistakes, sorry! Please feel free to point them out.

Anyway, I said in the last chapter's AN that this chapter would have something...weird...in it, and here it is! Heh. Mostly I think I just got bored of having Harry not understand everything, and since I am GOD, erm, I mean, the _author, _I'm allowed to make up whatever easy-solutions I want. That and, well, I just wanted to write Sirius. **sniffs** Poor Sirius. RIP. We love you.

Plus, by this point I think poor Harry needs some love. I'm putting him through the whole nine yards here.

And for those that were wondering when Harry was going to crack. Well, he finally cracked. Yay!

**coughs**

Right, well, next chapter will probably just be some more elvish-y stuff. Nothing too exciting. Might take a while to write. I've got finals in a week and a half. Eek! **hides under bed**

And let's not forget this evil translation. Even my old High School Japanese teacher took one look at it and went "You're translating THIS? I don't know how much help I'll be..."

Yeah. That fills me with confidence. Thanks Sensei. Really.

Right. Rant done.

REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW

xoxRia


	8. New Beginnings

**Chapter 8:  
**

The meeting with his grandparents went every bit as badly as he thought it would. It started off very formally, despite the settings. They were sitting in their living room with what could only be the elvish equivalent of a cup of afternoon tea when Harry was shown through the door - without Quenah. And that's what had him the most nervous. Quenah had been an almost constant presence for the past week, and now he was facing two beings who he wasn't really sure how to act around without him.

The Queen stood the second she saw Harry and walked over, reaching out and gripping his chin - for once actually touching him. She turned his head slightly and ran her bright green cat eyes along his face. She stepped back and took in the rest of him. And then she smiled. It was a satisfied smile, like the cat that had eaten the canary, but still had a few feathers sticking out of its mouth. Harry shivered slightly.

_"Perfect," _she murmured. _"You are very handsome, the perfect picture of a prince. A bit short, but you will still grow."_

Harry wasn't sure what to make of this. He still didn't know what he looked like, to be honest. He'd forgotten that he looked completely different - or did he? Maybe he was just like before, just with weird pointy ears, weird glowing eyes and luminescent skin.

The King approached, coming up behind his queen, and she turned to look at him.

_"Is he not?"_ She asked, though really the question was rhetorical.

A second pair of eyes flickered up and down Harry's body.

_"Yes, indeed," _agreed his grandfather.

_"And he has your chin,"_ mussed the Queen.

Harry couldn't help but stare at the King's chin, trying to find the resemblance and wondering if that's what his chin looked like now.

_"But looks very much like his father,"_ added the King. The Queen nodded in agreement. She stepped away suddenly and returned to her seat, her husband following. Harry was beginning to think that perhaps she had been the Princess, and the King had married into the royal family, and become a prince, and not the other way around. His grandmother certainly commanded more attention than his grandfather in any case. She caught Harry's eye and gestured to the chair across from theirs.

_"Be seated."_

Harry sat.

There was a few moments of silence. Harry shifted awkwardly. Now what?

_"I am glad that we have sorted out this mess. Now we can begin your true education, and properly announce you to the land,"_ announced his grandmother after a sip of her drink.

It was as bad as Harry had feared. But he would learn as much as he could. He just hoped it wouldn't be like any of those movies Aunt Petunia sometimes liked to watch, where the royalty always had to deal with affairs of state and was constantly under pressure and scrutiny.

_"We will increase your physical training and circulate your morning routine," _continued the Queen. _"You will need to study history, literature, politics, economics, music, dance, and magic on top of your studies now."_

Harry gaped.

_"That is unseemly,"_ the King told him sternly, but he couldn't smooth out his expression.

_"B-but,"_ he managed.

The Queen put down her glass and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not impressed with his inability to articulate.

_"That's so _much_,"_ he finally managed weakly.

_"You are Crown Prince. It is your duty and you will do it."_ There was no room for argument in his grandfather's voice.

Harry opened his mouth to do it anyway, but then quickly clamped it firmly shut again, remembering Aunt Petunia's warning. She had told him to keep his head down and try not make them angry. He thought she might have been exaggerating, but he'd seen the amount of formality a lot of the elves seemed to live by, and thought maybe he ought to heed her warning, just in case.

But...all those subjects! It was too much! He wasn't Hermione. And he didn't own a time-turner, either.

Yet...perhaps these things would help him out. The magic and physical training were indeed very important, and perhaps even the politics as well. After all, if Fudge continued to be an idiot, then Harry would have to be on his guard. Knowing things about politics could come in handy.

He took a deep breath and let it out. He set his expression and told himself to suck it up and try his best. This wasn't about his sense of fair or fun, this was about Voldemort, war, and the lives that he could save by learning as much as he could - lives like Sirius's. He would do this so that more innocent people wouldn't have to go through the pain of loosing loved ones.

_"Okay,"_ he said firmly. _"I'll do my absolute best."_

His grandparents smiled, pleased, and the Queen nodded her head, letting her auburn curls bounce slightly. The silver metal in her hair glinted in the light.

_"Very well then,"_ she said. _"We will arrange a new schedule and find the best tutors for you. However, for the next few days, we must make sure you are properly presentable. We must also arrange a celebration in your honour, to announce your presence to the land."_

Harry wasn't liking the sound of that. That sounded even more torturous than all the lessons.

_"The tailor has seen to you?"_ Asked the King.

Harry nodded. _"Yes, she came earlier."_

_"Good," _responded the Queen. _"She will send up your new wardrobe over the next week. More formal pieces will be last; the most practical first. We will also need to bring the best goldsmith in to fit your circlet."_

_Circlet?_ Thought Harry blankly. _Wait...gold?_

_"Then we must deal with the matter of succession, but that will come at a later date."_

Harry didn't like the sound of that either. For some reason it sounded a bit ominous. Succession? What did she mean by that? That he would become King?

_Maybe I can talk my way out of that…_

He doubted it, but at least he could hope and dream.

Fortunately, after a brief pause in talking, his grandparents suddenly decided it was time for lunch, and the next thing he knew, they were sweeping towards the lunch room with him trailing behind. Though, to be fair, he was quite hungry by then, having skipped both dinner and breakfast.

The Queen entered the room and sat down, but the King stopped to have a quiet word with one of the servants who was silently placing dishes on the round table. Harry didn't hear what was being said, despite his now quite excellent hearing, and deduced that there must be some sort of magic involved. He hadn't seen any hand movements or heard any incantations though, so he wondered how his grandfather had managed it. He also wondered if he'd be learning that any time soon, as it would make for a very advantageous trick - especially in potions.

He sat down, and as soon as his majesty had joined them, they started eating.

Lunch was very good, and he consumed rather a lot of food. It was slightly awkward without Quenah's comforting presence sitting next to him, so he didn't try and start any conversations. Instead, his grandparents engaged him in small talk and managed to draw from him the tale of his morning and what had happened the night before. When he was done with this the Queen smiled again (something Harry had come to associate with trouble).

_"You show much talent. Both in fighting and in magic. You will be a strong warrior and powerful mage,"_ she declared with satisfaction.

Well, that was encouraging at least. Maybe he had a chance against Voldemort after all.

Lunch was finished in relative silence after that, and only broken when they had all finished and servants mysteriously appeared to clear the table. Harry watched them curiously, as he hadn't really taken much notice of them before.

They were dressed differently from the ones that had come to fetch him from the Dursleys, and so he could only assume that those had been something else. These elves' clothes were far more simplistic, though much finer than anything he would have thought a human servant might wear. The colours were pale whites and beiges, which caused them to blend in slightly with the surrounding stone of the palace, especially if they had blond hair. They were also eerily silent and efficient. Almost like house elves. They all wore a simple metal necklace around their necks as well. Harry wondered what it was for.

They left the lunch room and this time went back to Harry's quarters. He had expected Quenah to be there, waiting, but he wasn't, which had him slightly uneasy, simply because of the surprise and uncertainty as to what was going to happen next. Surely they weren't getting rid of Quenah now that he seemed to be able to speak _Elwýnllambe _fluently? He didn't think so, since the elf was still teaching him the written language, but then he couldn't be certain.

However, no sooner had they settled down into seats again, then a new elf appeared - or rather, a new elf and some servants carrying an ornate box, who looked a lot more like guards, except that the only weapons Harry could see on them were a pair of long daggers belted at the waist. They still wore the necklaces though, so they couldn't be the same type of guards that he was used to seeing outside the entrance to the royal tower, nor the transportation towers.

The lead elf, dressed quite finely, bowed deeply and said a few set phrases of greeting to the royals (including Harry, which was rather disconcerting), which were mostly just formality. Then the elf straightened, a few strands of his dark brown hair falling into his eyes, and focused his eyes on Harry. Harry, in turn, felt rather like a bug under a microscope.

The elf directed his attention back to his grandparents and spoke. _"I have brought the Crown of the Heir, your majesties, as you have requested. If I might be bold as to ask for confirmation, but it is indeed our future King who sits before me? Son of our most beloved Indilaira-aránelle?"_

It was a ridiculous amount of formality in Harry's opinion, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. No one else he had spoken to had spoken in that way. Then again, to be fair, he hadn't truly understood anything and Quenah had been translating for him. Maybe his friend had been simplifying the formality of the language for him? Though, so far the only people he'd really had any interaction with had been his tutors, his grandparents, and a few elven children who didn't even know who he was. Perhaps, as his tutors, they didn't need to speak so formally. It was a troubling thought, because he hadn't expected the elves to be _quite_ this formal and tradition-oriented. He remembered the things Aunt Petunia had been talking about and silently re-evaluated his opinion. Then again…

_"You may, master goldsmith,"_ said the Queen, sounding regal and commanding, like she was sitting back on her throne instead of a couch in Harry's room. _"Your prince, Araëmel-aryón. Returned to us after much search and hardship."_

The elf smiled and dropped to one knee again in front of Harry, murmuring his name rather reverently. It made him very uncomfortable.

_"I will begin fitting immediately, with your majesties permission,"_ said the goldsmith after he had finished his bowing. The Queen gave her permission, and the servant-guards brought the box forward, setting it on the low table, facing all three of them. Another placed a delicate key on the table and stepped back. Harry had begun to suspect what was going on by then, but he held his breath just to be certain as his grandfather unlocked the box and opened the lid. Sure enough, inside on a moulded resting place, was a delicate circlet of gold.

It was a crown. He was getting a _crown_.

It was almost like the sight of the gold band, resting in its box, finally destroyed any last, tiny delusions or doubts he was having. That crown was a symbol of royalty...and it was going on _his_ head.

Well, wasn't that just peachy.

Honestly, he really didn't want it. And honestly, he didn't really get a choice in the matter.

_"The Crown of the Heir,"_ said the goldsmith solemnly.

Harry wondered if his mother had worn that same crown.

_"The male heir,"_ amended the elf softly, almost to himself.

Well, that dashed that theory then.

The crown was actually quite pleasant to look at. It was similar in design to the King's circlet, which was just a smidgen plainer and more stream-lined, and the whole thing seemed to flow seamlessly together. There were extra strands of gold weave which were thinner than the main body and caused it to to look more delicate than it probably actually was. It also probably made the crown heavier.

Harry was made to stand, and the goldsmith picked up the crown reverently without actually touching it, to place it on Harry's head. In Harry's opinion, this was all very monumental and important, but no one else seemed bothered by the lack of ceremony. Perhaps there was a more formal one later. And, it probably wouldn't have been very sophisticated if the crown had slipped down over his forehead during said ceremony either, which was probably why it was being fitted beforehand. (Of course, the possible ceremony was pure speculation on Harry's part, though it was most likely correct).

Surprisingly, the gold was a lot lighter than he had been expecting, though the whole weight of the metal band rested heavily and uncomfortably on his brown anyway. Then again, that might have had something to do with the fact that it started to slip a bit and almost covered his eyes. He quickly reached up a hand and pushed it back up again, scowling slightly. The goldsmith observed this and made a few humming and hawing noises in the back of his throat, then he reached forward and removed the crown and set it down on the table.

_"It is too big, though I can easily remove some of the length, your majesties,"_ he said, gesturing to the back of the crown, where the gold became just a simple, thicker band, without any extra decorations.

_"Do so immediately,"_ responded the Queen.

The goldsmith bowed and replaced the crown back in its box. The King locked it again and the servants came forward to take it away. The goldsmith left not soon after.

Harry feared that there might have been even more in store for him, but apparently there were no more surprises left for the day, and his grandparents took their leave. He had to bow them out, and when he was alone with no one to keep him company for the remainder of the day, he flopped back down on the couch and wondered just what in Merlin's name did they expect him to do to occupy himself?

If only Ron or Hermione were there, then they could go exploring together. Then, he thought of Meldir. Perhaps he could hunt the other elf down, so long as he was finished with Melcacrist's lessons for the day. He didn't particularly relish his next meeting with his trainer after all the fuss of that morning. It was bound to be unpleasant and painful, that was for sure.

But first, before he did anything else, he needed to see what he looked like now. He stood up and shuffled to the bathroom doorway, hesitating slightly at the entrance. He was really nervous now - how much had he changed?

He pushed aside the curtain and stepped through.

At first it was just a glimpse that he caught in the mirror across the room, but then he moved closer and _stared_. He really did look just like his father. He remembered the memory he'd dredged up of his mum and dad and couldn't help but smile slightly. He actually looked mostly the same as before, apart from a slightly more slanted tilt to his eyes, and thinner eyebrows. He peered more closely and admitted that maybe his bone structure was a bit more refined as well. His hair surprised him, as it was less messy looking and more controlled now, lying flatter on his head. Then he turned his head to the side slightly and thought he caught a glint of auburn in the strands. He blinked, and watched his eyelids close and open over his startling green cat eyes.

His eyes - that was the biggest difference, along with his ears. If his eyes had been green before, now they were practically glowing. He remembered what Quenah had told him of an _Elwý_'s eyes. He must have a lot of magic then. The weirdest thing, though, was the shape - it was just like a cat's; and seeing it on his own face was extremely strange. He wondered if he'd be able to see in the dark. He could certainly already see far better than he could before, and in much more detail too.

He reached up and touched one of his ears. He felt the skin contact and his ear quiver and twitch. He almost laughed as he watched his reflection. He moved them again experimentally and they moved back, forward, and down slightly. They had a much larger range of movement than human ears, and he wondered just how many more muscles or bones - or even organs! - elves had in comparison to humans. He wondered how much more different he was now.

As his thoughts began to stray onto dangerous territory, Harry turned away from the mirror to clear his head, and decided he ought to get out of his room and distract himself, before he started brooding.

He left his room, resolving to find his new friend, and it was only after he'd bypassed the guards and was making his way down the numerous flights of stairs that he realised he had no idea where to even start looking for Meldir. He scowled and hooked his thumbs over the waist wrap as he stopped and glanced around. Where on earth did all the elves live anyway? He remembered seeing Meldir for the first time in the third portion of the palace, so that was probably the best place to look. Although, he wasn't sure if he could be bothered to walk all the way down there. He turned around and went back up the way he'd come, heading for the transportation tower.

He ran into a little problem when he got there though, as the elves guarding the entrance stepped forward and crossed their spears, asking him politely for proof of permission to use the tower.

Harry groaned. Of course they wouldn't recognise him.

_"I don't need permission,"_ he told them, glancing between the two guards and trying to judge their reaction.

_"Only their majesties may sanction free use of the tower,"_ said the guard on the left.

_"Okay, well, I've been using it for the past week, so I should think that that means I have permission,"_ Harry grumbled, almost rolling his eyes. He couldn't fault them really, it wasn't their fault that they didn't recognise him. Even Quenah hadn't at first.

The guards faltered and glanced at each other. He could tell they were slightly confused and wary.

_"We guard this tower in shifts, but even so I am sure we would have recognised you, young one,"_ said the one on the right this time. The left guard nodded in agreement.

Harry sighed. _"Remember the human? That's me. No more 'skin', see?"_ He tugged slightly on one ear to make his point.

The guards exchanged glances again and both peered at him suspiciously. He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny.

_"You do look quite similar. You could easily be that human,"_ mussed the right guard.

The left guard agreed. _"Yes, but he was always accompanied by that other Elwý_."

_"True,"_ said the right.

Harry sighed again. Would they just make up their minds and let him pass?

_"But I always thought the human used the tower to keep a low profile?"_

The elf on the right turned to Harry and said, _"If you are indeed that human, which I am inclined to believe, you no longer have need for the tower. You must request permission from their majesties again. Only those Elwý with royal favour may use the tower for anything other than important business."_

Harry finally did roll his eyes. This was ridiculous. He had been right in thinking he wouldn't have gotten past earlier without Quenah. It was also obvious that there had been a guard shift sometime between that morning and the afternoon, or they would have surely have let him pass by now.

_"I really, really don't want to walk all the way to the third section, and I told you, I don't _need_ permission."_ He was getting rather annoyed by now.

The guard on the right started to repeat himself. _"Only those Elwý who have proof of permission from the-"_

Harry cut him off, _"For the last and final time, I don't need permission! Now stand aside immediately."_ That had sounded rather imperious, but perhaps that was the tone of voice he needed to employ in order to get anywhere with these elves. After all, they all seemed such sticklers for tradition and authority. He crossed his arms and tried to look imposing.

_"Who _are_ you?"_ Demanded the elf on the left suddenly.

Harry blinked. _"Uh…"_

_"Yes, who would wear a human skin?"_ Asked the other.

Oh for the love of Merlin. Harry grit his teeth and finally snapped.

_"Crown Prince Araëmel, that's who!"_

For a few seconds there was silence and all Harry received were two blank stares. Then, it was like a light switch flipped on and understanding dawned.

_"A-Araëmel-aryón?"_ They stuttered, their spears dropping uselessly to the side as they gaped at him.

Harry crossed his arms and tapped one foot impatiently, waiting for them to step aside and let him through.

_"Araëmel-aryón?"_ They repeated a few more times wonderingly.

Harry threw up his hands in exasperation.

_"Oh for...yes! Here I am, back from the human world. Surprise. Now will you stop standing there, gaping like a pair of fish and get out of the way?"_ He paused as he had a sudden thought. _"Actually, one of you can do the spell to get me to the third tower."_

They didn't move though, but Harry's cross words had jerked them both out of their shock. The spears straightened and they began to look less confused. Harry was eyed up and down.

_"We were never informed of the prince's return."_

_"But a week ago, the royal guard fetched a human from the human realm. It could have been Prince Araëmel."_

_"It would make sense."_

_"And he would have been wearing a skin."_

_"I thought the prince was dead though."_

_"I _am_ standing right here,"_ Harry interrupted. Two sets of startled green eyes stared into his own and blushes spread across two pairs of cheeks.

The left guard cleared his throat and murmured, _"Apologies Prince, ah, I will show you through immediately, and confirm with the King and Queen later."_

_Finally,_ thought Harry with irritation. This was all more trouble than it was worth. He bet he could have been half-way there by now and without half the fuss.

He was shown through and the elf in question quickly ushered him into the transportation circle, beginning the ritual, though not without many furtive glances. He felt like an exhibit on display.

He closed his eyes when the light of the spell flared up, and opened them again when it was done, stepping out into the third tower.

_"Right, thanks, bye,"_ he threw over his shoulder as he hurried out. He really didn't want to stay any longer and possibly be subjected to questioning.

He moved past the guards on either side of the doorway quickly before either of them could say anything either, and tried to get out of sight as fast as possible.

One problem solved, he slowed down once he'd gone down a few flights of stairs, but a few more still remained. For instance, how was he supposed to find Meldir? For one he didn't know where the elf lived, and even if he asked someone, he didn't know what Meldir's House name was either.

That was another thing that Harry found strange about the elven culture. Elves didn't have last names. Instead, they all belonged to a 'House' which was named after whichever elf had established it.

However, only prestigious families could have Houses, so any other elf would simply have to identify themselves by their parent's names as well as their own. Harry himself belonged to a House - the royal House. It was supposedly named after the very first _Elwý_ king, Caladharan. He didn't particularly care about all this, and thought it made things all the more complicated, but right now it would have been very useful if he'd known Meldir's House.

But he didn't, so he was stuck.

Harry stopped walking when he got to the main corridor and looked around. How would he go about finding out Meldir's House then? There were a few other elves in sight, but they all looked fairly busy or like they had somewhere to be - and to be honest, what would be the chance that any of them would know who Meldir was? It was highly unlikely. Thus, he was rather stumped.

Fortunately, fate seemed to be smiling down upon him for once, because not a minute later, a young elf he thought he recognised came striding purposefully down the corridor. He racked his brain, trying to place the tall female, and finally realised that she had been one of the fighters in Melcacrist's class earlier that morning. Merlin, what was her name? Tasha? Tessa?

While he was busy trying to remember her name, he realised that she was passing by him.

_"Hey!"_ He quickly called out, running after her retreating figure.

At first she didn't break stride or turn around, but when Harry called out again, she glanced curiously over her shoulder and spotted him hurrying up to her.

_"Yes?" _She asked uncertainly.

She was actually quite pretty, he noticed - light blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and a delicate face. However, she was also exuded a very strong presence and her expression clearly stated that she wouldn't take any sort of nonsense. He stopped in front of her and smiled uncertainly.

_"Uh, hi," _he said nervously, _"um, I forgot your name, but you were there in class today right?"_

A small, amused smile flitted across her face.

_"Yes. My name is Taswa,"_ she responded. Then she tilted her head slightly and peered at him, eyes narrowing slightly. _"You're the one who kicked up a fuss earlier, aren't you?"_

Harry blushed a furious red. Great, just great. Now everyone was talking about him.

She laughed, noticing his embarrassment.

_"You've managed to ruffle a few feathers you know. But Mel seems to think a lot of you, so I will reserve judgement,"_ she smirked.

She had handed him a perfect opportunity to ask, so ignoring her first statement, he said, _"Actually, that's what I wanted to ask. Do you know where I can find him?"_

She blinked in surprise. _"Mel? I was just going to see him."_

_"Oh,"_ said Harry, now the one surprised. Well, that was certainly convenient. Fate really did seem to be trying to make up for the past week.

_"You can come with me, if you like,"_ she offered kindly. Harry grinned and agreed. He fell into step with her when she began to walk again, in the direction she'd been going before, which was back the way he'd just come from.

_"What's your name again?"_ She asked after they'd turned off the main corridor and begun to head down an equally bright and airy hall.

_"Araëmel_."

She raised an eyebrow at him. _"That's quite a regal name."_

Harry swallowed. Was it?

_"What House?"_ Came the next question. Harry swallowed again. Now what did he say?

He tried to divert the question: _"What about you?"_

She held her head up high and answered proudly, _"I don't have one."_

_"Oh?"_ Responded Harry, surprised. Then again, when he thought about it, he remembered Meldir saying that some people had had to test into Melcacrist's classes. He supposed the Taswa was one of those people.

_"Yes,"_ she replied, _"I got where I am through hard work and effort." _Her tone dared him to make fun of her, though he had no intention of doing so.

_"I'm impressed,"_ he told her solemnly, _"Melcacrist is the best of the best."_

_"I know,"_ she said simply.

By now, Harry was hopelessly lost, though they seemed to have entered a more residential section of the palace, as there were less doors, and the ones they did pass had plaques on them with writing. He guessed they were the names of the families living there, though they passed by too quickly for him to try and read them properly.

_"Why haven't I seen you before now?"_ Taswa asked into the silence.

Harry turned his head to look at her profile, trying to pick his words carefully. What should he say?

He finally settled on, _"I just came here, last week."_

_"You're from one of the country Houses?"_ She asked curiously, suddenly stopping at one of the doors lining the long hallway.

_"Uh, no," _Harry managed, but then fell silent when the other elf knocked on the door. She stood back and waited.

The door swung open not long after, and a tall, beautiful elf woman stood in the doorway. She was dressed far more plainly than most elven women he'd seen, especially in the upper levels of the palace, but the simple blue dress suited her chestnut hair quite well. He blinked when she spoke, and quickly stopped staring.

_"Taswa, how nice of you to visit."_ It was obvious she knew Taswa, because they then exchanged rather familiar greeting phrases that Harry had been taught were only to be used between acquaintances of relatively the same social level.

The two women both turned to stare at him, and he realised he was supposed to introduce himself.

_"Araëmel. Nice to meet you."_

They continued to stare, as if waiting for something. He didn't say anything further, and eventually the older women blinked and said uncertainly, _"You...do not have a House?"_

_Oh,_ thought Harry. _Whoops_. Now what did he say?

_"He said he was not from around here,"_ offered Taswa helpfully.

Fortunately though, Harry was saved from further elaboration when Meldir appeared in the doorway.

_"Taswa, what are you - Araëmel! Hi!"_ His eyes latched onto Harry and he pushed past the woman so he could grin at them both properly. _"Eruahna, come on, invite them in."_

Harry assumed that 'Eruahna' was the name of the woman who had greeted them. Sure enough, the woman's cheeks flushed a slight pink and she quickly beckoned them in, saying, _"I apologise for my brother's rudeness. He never quite learned proper etiquette."_

That would explain a few things, Harry decided, as he was propelled through the door.

Elvish houses, or apartments in this case, were just like their human counterparts. The initial room was much like a living room, with doors or archways leading to new rooms and a set of spiral stairs to one side, which no doubt led to an upstairs. The whole place was quite a bit more sophisticated looking than any human dwelling, and it still contained the large windows where ever it could, giving the whole place a very light feel. The colour scheme in Meldir's house seemed to be blue, in contrast to Harry's green. Personally he preferred green, but the blue was very soothing.

They sat down on some beige couches, while Eruahna disappeared through the arch directly across from them. They heard some soft thuds and clinking, and then she reappeared with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of what was no doubt sweet water. She set it down on the small table between them and quietly poured them each a glass. When they had all settled back with their own drink, Meldir broke the silence.

_"So, why are you here?"_

Harry watched in amusement as Eruahna flushed again and subtly pinched Meldir's arm.

_"Again, I apologise for his manners."_ She directed this more at Harry than at Taswa, and he wasn't sure whether that was because Taswa was used to Meldir's behaviour, or whether it was because no one knew his actual social standing and so were being overly cautious.

So, he grinned at Meldir and flashed a smile at his sister, quickly reassuring her that he didn't mind at all, and actually preferred the more relaxed atmosphere. Meldir gave his sister a slightly triumphant look at this while Taswa simply rolled her eyes.

_"Well?"_ Asked Meldir.

Harry shrugged. _"I don't know really. I got sick of being poked and prodded at by my grandparents and their stupid tailors and...things."_ He had been about to say 'goldsmiths' but then thought better of it.

Apparently though, 'tailor' had been more than enough. Three pairs of eyes gazed at him uncertainly.

_"Tailor?"_ Asked Taswa.

Harry slouched slightly in his seat, as if it would make him smaller and less noticeable somehow.

_"Well, I guess you do need it…"_ was Meldir's helpful observation. Harry ignored both Taswa and Eruahna's gasps of indignation to glance down at his clothes. They were still too small, of course, and missing parts.

He nodded in agreement. _"Oh yeah. I should have something better tomorrow I think. She works fast."_

Meldir changed the subject before his sister could berate him for his rudeness.

_"How about you Taswa?"_ He asked of Harry's couch-mate.

Taswa glanced at Harry and looked a bit uncomfortable. He watched her curiously as she fidgeted, and then suddenly realised she'd probably come to ask about him.

_"Let me guess,"_ he said, _"it's about this morning."_

She nodded, relaxing slightly. _"Ah. Yes. Truthfully I wanted to know what happened and who you were. I've honestly never seen anyone treat Melcacrist that way and get away with it before."_ She shot Harry a suspicious glance.

Harry betted no one else had ever been the crown prince before.

_"It's funny,"_ exclaimed Meldir with a grin, _"because it sort of ties in with what we were talking about yesterday."_

_"What?"_ Asked Taswa, confused.

_"You know, about the rumours of a human."_

Taswa's expression darkened. _"They aren't rumours, I'm telling you, I've _seen_ it."_

Harry resented being called an 'it.'

_"Yeah, well, I believe you now, okay?"_ Meldir leaned back in his seat and tried to cross his arms, but he was still holding his glass, and so had to find a place to put it down first.

_"Oh? And what made you change your mind?"_ Taswa's tone was slightly disbelieving.

Meldir gestured at Harry, grinning at him slightly. _"Araëmel_ _of course_."

Harry clutched his glass a tad tighter and wondered where this was going to end up. Did he want everyone to know he was the human? There wasn't any harm in it, he didn't think, but he wasn't sure what kind of attention it would bring him. He had been lucky that Meldir didn't seem to mind, but what about others? Then again, he'd been going around as human for the past week or so, so what was the difference now?

He fit in now. That was the biggest difference. And to be truthful, he sort of liked to be inconspicuous.

Taswa turned to him and demanded, _"You've seen it too?"_

Harry flushed angrily. He was _not_ an 'it'!

_"Of course not,"_ Meldir said before Harry could decide whether he wanted his secret revealed, _"He _is_ the human."_

Harry was treated to two very incredulous glances. Then, Eruahna started to choke slightly and gave her brother a very angry look. She turned back to Harry and immediately started entreating his kindness.

_"I am so very, very sorry! I don't know what's got into him today. Please forgive him for ever insinuating something so...so…"_ she seemed at a loss for words, gesticulating vaguely at the air.

Harry sighed, taking a sip of his drink before setting it on the table softly.

_"No, it's okay. It's true."_

Taswa's glass slipped from her grip and fell to the floor, where it shattered and spread its contents across the marble. Eruahna's eyes just widened and she stared at him blankly. Harry jumped into action.

_"Sorry!"_ He exclaimed, fumbling for his wand which was still stuck through his waistband. _"Here, let me clean that. _Scourgify!_ Really, I shouldn't have been so blunt. Here,_ Reparo!" Three elven gazes watched in astonishment as the liquid disappeared from the ground and the glass flew back together and then hovered slightly in the air as Harry made a grab for it and set it back down on the table. He mumbled another 'sorry' and busied himself with trying to put his wand back through the waistband of his outfit while sitting down.

_"Wow," _Meldir finally managed, _"that was neat."_

Harry glanced up, looking from one elf to the other, taking in their reactions.

_"That's...impossible,"_ Taswa said weakly.

Harry shrugged slightly. _"I'm not human, but I was wearing a 'skin' or whatever it was. I doubt there's actually been a human here. It was just me and my aunt, both in skins."_ He hoped he was making sense, and he also hoped he had his facts right. It also took all he had not to add an 'unfortunately' after saying he wasn't human - he didn't think that would go down well in his current situation.

_"That...was you?"_ Taswa asked uncertainly, now staring at Harry intently.

Harry nodded.

_"But the rumours...they say the human, I mean you, came from the human realm…"_

_"Uh, I did,"_ said Harry, not entirely sure where this was going.

There was shaky clatter and he turned to see Eruahna had set down her glass and was looking rather pale.

_"The h-human realm?"_ She half asked, half stuttered.

Harry groaned. What was with the _Elwý_ and humans?

_"Yes the human realm!"_ He rolled his eyes. _"Honestly, I don't see what the problem is. So I was living there, big deal. Now I'm back here and everyone kicks up a fuss."_ He crossed his arms and found Meldir was nodding in agreement with him.

_"But...it's the _human_ realm!"_ Taswa exclaimed, thumping her knee to emphasise her point. _"It's forbidden!"_

Harry shrugged. _"Not when my parents went. Besides, it's not my fault they died, or I might have been back here a lot earlier." _Which was a lie. His parents had had no intention of coming back.

Before anyone could properly digest this, Meldir added laughingly, _"And can you believe he didn't even know he was Elwý? Imagine that! Thinking you were _human_!"_

This visit was becoming entirely too excitable. Perhaps he should have stayed in his room.

Taswa stared at him like the world was ending.

_"It must have been horrible, I'm so sorry."_ She said it with complete solemnity.

Harry blinked. Did she mean living in the human realm, not knowing, or having dead parents?

_"It wasn't that bad,"_ he said, trying for an ambiguous answer that would possibly answer all three.

Eruahna looked close to tears as she gazed at Harry. _"It's so awful. After the Princess...well, the human realm was completely forbidden. But to think you got left behind. She was so beautiful and kind. I do not know what their majesties are going to do…"_ she trailed off, biting her lip.

Harry himself had to take a deep breath. That was his mother - she was the princess. He supposed he couldn't really fault the elves for being so adverse to humans after their beloved princess had been killed by them, though their attitude was still a bit extreme - it reminded him of a pureblood's attitude towards muggles.

_"But they say the princess had a son who might have survived,"_ mussed Meldir. He was quickly shushed.

_"Don't talk about hearsay. It's only rumour and no point getting our hopes up,"_ scolded his sister.

_"Besides, if he had survived, he would have been found by now,"_ huffed Taswa.

Harry half felt like raising his hand and saying 'well actually, they did, here I am,' but he refrained, knowing the consequences of that. So, instead he kept quiet and let them debate it themselves, not wanting to have to outright lie if he could help it.

_"Wait a minute,"_ said Meldir after some more back and forth arguments as to whether or not the mysterious prince could still be alive and lost in the human realm, _"Araëmel, you lived in the human realm. Was there any news about the prince?"_

_"_If_ there's a prince,"_ Taswa muttered under her breath next to him.

Harry found himself between a rock and a hard place. He could outright lie and say 'no'...or he could stretch the truth a bit. He bit his lip and frowned.

_"Well...the humans don't know Elwý exist,"_ he told them. So long as he didn't say anything further, he could let them draw their own conclusions and that way he wouldn't be lying outright to his new friends.

_"Then where did the rumours come from?"_ Asked Meldir, sounding confused.

_"The humans don't know we exist, but _we_ know we exist, stupid,"_ said Taswa, sounding exasperated.

_"So then why wouldn't Araëmel know?"_ Countered Mel.

_"Because he was human and everyone thought he was human."_

_"Oh."_

It worked out perfectly. Harry sat back, feeling pleased with himself. There was a reason the sorting hat almost put him in Slytherin after all.

Fortunately, after that the conversation strayed from the human realm and the missing prince to more mundane matters, such as Melcacrist's classes and how they were doing. The matter of Harry's human-ness was also forgotten, though he didn't doubt that it would be brought up again. He added his two knuts in every once in a while, but for the most part he was simply content to sit back and listen.

To be honest, he began to have a mild feeling of deja vu, and it was only when he was walking back to his room later that afternoon, that the complete and utter irony of his situation struck him. It was like first year all over again.

First, he finds out he's not what he thought he was, gets whisked off to a magical place in another world, where he's famous and important and is expected to learn and excel.

Then he has a multitude of different teachers, one of whom hates him a lot, and gets himself into messes. He makes two very good friends, one boy and one girl, who become his anchor and happiness. Indeed, further irony over Meldir and Taswa's positions wasn't lost on him. Meldir was just like Ron - he had a House, which was just like the equivalent of pureblood in Harry's mind, but he was still extremely low on the social ladder, just like Ron was very poor. Taswa was just like Hermione in that she had no House, but became the best of the best through hard work and determination, and a little bit of natural smarts.

He shook his head as he approached the tower guards. It was really quite absurd that it should all happen again, but he'd learnt long ago that fate liked to mess with him. So what better than to create similar situations? Next thing he knew, his grandparents would be telling him he was part of a huge prophecy to destroy the ultimate enemy of the elves and bring peace to the land - during which, said enemy would be out to kill him. Fortunately, that didn't seem likely, but by this point he honestly wouldn't be surprised.

He nodded at the guards as they opened the doors to the royal quarters for him, and walked inside. He simply had to find Quenah now, so he could tell him about his deja vu - he bet the older elf would find it really amusing.

* * *

**AN: **Well, what can I say? It's been forever, hasn't it? In my defense, I completely lost inspiration for this story (and any fanfiction really) and was writing a lot of original stuff. Then, suddenly, BAM, inspiration struck again, and I managed to write two chapters! So yes, that's right, I have the next chapter mostly written as well. But I think I'll hold onto it for a bit just in case my inspiration dries up again and I need it as back-up. And also, because I want to give you guys the opportunity to vote. See, I'm having trouble deciding something, and I figured you could all have a say in it, so, here's the issue:

**IMPORTANT: Please read and leave your vote in a review, thanks!**

**Option 1: **As it stands, I have one more chapter written of Harry in the elven realm, and could have maybe one more after that and then time-jump to the end of summer, to get to the part where Harry returns. This means Order reactions, Harry having to deal with a whole new bunch of issues, and problems with evading Dumbledore and Hermione's questions. Or at least, that's the plan.

**Option 2: **Continue writing about Harry's summer in _Elwýn_, including such things as more interaction with Meldir and Taswa, maybe a few lessons in things like magic and fighting, some more Harry-Grandparents interaction, and probably Harry forced to attend some fancy coronation or ball. This would mean maybe three or four more chapters before getting to the end of the summer and getting to learn about what's been going on in the Human World.

**So, please vote in a review, as I'm equally happy to do both, but I really can't decide! **

Also, I have a poll in my author profile about my writing, if anyone's interested in voting on that as well.

Finally, I have a sort of "Sorry I took so damn long to get this out" present for you guys. **I drew a picture of Araëmel**! Yay! Now, it's not the best, and it's really simplistic, but I've been feeling really artsy lately and wanted to do something that everyone could see. So, here is the link to the picture on my deviant account:

http:// . com/art/ Araemel- 119394395

Remove the spaces and paste into browser and voila! Again, it's not the best picture, but I think I did okay. And I hope it sort of makes up for the long wait. Hehe...

Well, I think that's it. And, it goes without saying, that the faster you all review this time, the quicker I can write more, since I'm relying on your votes to help me decide what to write next! Even if you just leave a review with the number '1' or '2' that would be an immense help! Or you could PM me. I don't mind which really, so long as you vote somehow. But I figure it's easier in a review, right?

Okay, well, hope you enjoyed the chapter. And hope it was up to standard, as it's been a while!

**xoxRia**


	9. Unexpected Revelations

**Chapter 9:  
**

Days passed quickly for Harry after the initial excitement of his elvish-ness wore off. He was called in for two more tailoring and crown-fitting sessions, though clothes began to show up in his wardrobe the day after the first one. For the most part though, he was kept busy with all his lessons.

In fact, it might have all been very overwhelming, if not for something Harry discovered early on - his memory had improved. Once he'd begun to explore his new body and abilities to their fullest, he realised that he was able to recall memories, information, and images with more detail and clarity than he ever could before. He also picked up information with far more ease and it stuck quite firmly in his mind. This made lessons such as history, etiquette, geography, and literature simply a matter of remembering what he was told.

However, it didn't mean it had made him any smarter, which was bit of a let down in Harry's opinion. He still struggled slightly with the concepts and applications of politics and economics.

His politics teacher, a _very_ old elf named Larithár, was extremely long-winded, tended to go off on random tangents, and often fell silent for long periods of time as he lost himself in memories. Seeing as the elf could rival Dumbledore for beard length, Harry shuddered to think just how old he actually was.

The lessons themselves only seemed to get more and more convoluted as time passed. His tutors had started off with the basics and begun to pick up the pace once Harry had them down - making matters worse. If he wasn't being instructed in how to best negotiate a peace treaty or how to decide when to declare war, he was being instructed how to act.

Harry hated etiquette the most. The lesson always started off with one of several phrases from his demon teacher from hell. Either it was _"No, no, you're doing it wrong _again_!"_, or it was _"As hard as it for your highness to _understand_, it simply _must_ be done this way."_

And when Harry demanded just_ why _he had to always make sure that others bowed when meeting him, or said the appropriate greeting phrase, or spoke in the proper form of speech used specially for those with high stations, his teacher nearly had a heart-attack. He stopped asking after the fifth time she had to sit down and calm herself after bemoaning the fate of the kingdom when Harry became King.

So, (according to Harry) he learned how to be a pompous arse_._ He could have put the Malfoys to shame.

_"You never _ask_, your highness,"_ Harry was told one bright morning. _"You simply command."_

_"And if I wanted something? Like something to eat? Or to borrow something? I just what? _Demand _it?"_

The demon woman looked at him strangely, her lips, perpetually thinned to an invisible line, parted and she said matter-of-factly, _"Of course."_

Harry wisely kept his mouth shut and simply nodded. And under her stern gaze, he dutifully wrote down the new information in his strange combination of English and _Elwýntencelle._ All the information he learned in his etiquette classes now went under the large, bolded English words: **How to be a git 101**_**. **_

Fortunately, only Quenah had any idea what the words said, and the poor elf nearly had a conniption when he first discovered Harry's rather dubious titles for all his lessons. But none were quite so unflattering as the names he came up for etiquette.

One thing he did thank his lucky stars for was his new found physical abilities. Not only did it enable him to progress quickly in his lessons with Melcacrist, it also meant there was less chance he would fall off his horse, and that it was much easier to sight his target and get his arrows closer to their mark during archery.

Besides, it was actually _fun_, once he got over the world of pain he usually found himself in afterwards. Horse riding was something he enjoyed, and he got along quite well with the horses (who he swore could almost understand him), archery was something he'd always wanted to try as a child, and after several weeks practice, the amount of pride he felt when he managed to get more than one of his arrows to hit the mark accurately made all the sores worth it.

Sword-fighting on the other hand - Harry swore he hadn't improved at all and was at an impasse with his abilities. But Melcacrist kept at him, telling him it was a slow process, getting the movements and instincts ingrained deeply into the brain, beyond the realm of conscious thought. Harry was sceptical, but he kept at it nevertheless. Who knew, maybe he'd have to slay another basilisk in the future?

One accomplishment he felt particularly proud of was learning to dance. No longer would he ever stumble or make a fool out of himself during a Yule ball (though to be honest, he'd probably never have to go to one again). With quicker reflexes and better balance, it was quite a simple task to manage to look decent and fluid while dancing. Then again, this also meant that _everyone_ had quicker reflexes and balance, and while he looked fine in his opinion, his dance teacher told him he was far below the usual standard.

And then the dreaded b-word was mentioned, and Harry doubled his efforts to learn to be graceful. Never again would he be humiliated in front of an audience - _especially_ at a ball.

Not that there would be a ball - but his tutors liked to promise him that there would be one eventually. It was enough to get Harry moving.

Music was a disaster. After the first lesson, Harry decided he was never meant to be musically inclined, and his inability to carry a tune just proved that. (The humiliation was equal to none).

Learning an instrument was only marginally better, since he hadn't been learning long enough to be able to tell if he was bad because he was just starting out, or because he just plain sucked. Personally he'd go for the latter, but his teachers still held out hope it was the former. Harry just feared what would happen when they figured out he was never going to improve. What would they do then? It's not like he was going to sit on a throne and play music!

His etiquette teacher had the answer, of course. Royalty had to be _cultured_; the best of the best. The pinnacle of perfection.

Harry thought this might be asking a bit much.

By far his most interesting and fun lesson was magic. Since he'd already had much experience in that department at Hogwarts, he was quick to pick up the basics of air manipulation and progressed beyond in leaps and bounds. It was much more useful than _Wingardium Leviosa_ or _Mobilicorpus_ any day.

The element was like an extension of self - once he'd learned to recognise his magic and the way it hummed just beneath his skin (apparently the reason why all elves had that strange luminescence), he soon began to be able to extend its influence beyond him to the air itself.

Air manipulation - and in some cases, earth manipulation - came naturally to almost all elves with enough magic. It also took only a thought or a gesture of his hands to manipulate the air currents to do any number of things. By commanding the air, he was able to move things, pick them up, create breezes, and even weapons. Once, he'd managed to float about an inch off the ground. He was told he would learn to combine it with his fighting abilities in the future.

On the other hand, any other type of elvish spell required a potion or a magic 'circle', which was a good deal harder than simple element manipulation. He had to learn the rules, principles, types of spells, ingredients - the list went on. Elven magic seemed a lot more structured than the rather hodgepodge wizard magic. Every gesture had a meaning behind it, and depending on how you focused your magic, the spell could change. One's mind had to be disciplined as well, in order to focus properly.

But learning about the land of _Elwýn_ as a whole was a large disappointment to him. The more he learned of its history and culture, the more he began to realise just why Aunt Petunia had been so wary and upset. The elves, despite appearing quite peaceful and kind on the outside, were in truth a selfish and rather narcissistic race. They saw other species as inferior and kept to a rigid social form. It reminded Harry of the human medieval period. There was such a solid social hierarchy which, if disrupted, could result in severe punishment.

And when he found out what that punishment was, he was disgusted.

The _Elwý_ prided themselves in being a sophisticated race. They said that only humans killed each other. So, there was no death penalty. However, equally as horrific were the slaves.

They weren't true slaves as in the English meaning of the word, but it was the closest way of describing the collared servants that Harry had come across. Because, for all intents and purposes, they were _slaves_.

When he had learnt of this injustice, it had taken him a while to get over his shock. It was after this though, that he began to notice even more things about the _Elwý_ which reminded him increasingly of Voldemort and his follower's purist ideals.

However, all thoughts pertaining to all this were quickly discarded when he found out about the ball.

It had been two weeks after he'd taken the skin removal potion and he had been so busy every day, he had only managed to sneak in a few hours to see his new friends. He was becoming tired and frustrated, and really wanted a break.

He grumbled to himself as he walked back up to his rooms for lunch after his most recent politics lesson. He really, really hated politics. It was all a bunch of tedious laws he had to learn and be able to apply in the correct situations. Not to mention all the Court politics - that was enough to give him a headache twice over.

His ears twitched in annoyance (another thing that he'd had to get used to) and he scowled. He was still scowling when he stalked up to the guards, and they let him through quickly. He reached his gold-covered doors and shoved them open, stalking through and throwing himself down on a nearby chair.

"Stupid politics, stupid grandparents and stupid_ Elwý!_" He exclaimed into the empty room.

He sat up straighter and looked around. That was strange. Usually Quenah would be in his rooms, waiting with lunch. Despite no longer needing the elf for language tutoring, Harry had insisted his friend continue to help him out and guide him. So Quenah still joined him every day for lunch.

Not to mention, this way he wouldn't have to eat with his grandparents, which was always a chore.

He really should be more grateful he had family, but the King and Queen were always so intimidating that he felt like he was on trial every time he even spoke to them. The Queen's gaze in particular was so domineering that Harry could never quite get comfortable with them.

What he wanted was a familial camaraderie, what he got were minders. He wanted to be able to go to them after an exhausting day and simply _talk_, but instead he had to stand to attention and relate every success and failure and then wait for the verdict like a criminal. And sometimes, when the King and Queen were disappointed, they would look at him in such a way that it made him feel just awful - like he wasn't trying hard enough.

Half of him wanted to please them so badly, so that they would praise him and tell him how much they loved him, and yet another part of him almost hated them for making him feel that way.

Harry had mixed feelings about his grandparents, and so had devised the simplest way of dealing with them - _don't._ He didn't deal with them at all; rather, he avoided them like the plague unless he was specifically summoned.

And so far, it seemed to be working. For the moment.

Sighing, he slumped back in his chair. Quenah, he decided, was probably just running late, so Harry would wait for him.

Just then something on the table caught his eye. It was a rolled piece of vellum, tied with a gold and silver ribbon. He sat forward and reached for it, picking it up and turning it over in his hands until he found where it was tied.

The inside was covered in green ink and had gold edging. Harry raised an eyebrow as he scanned it, not initially taking in what was written. He hadn't yet got to the point where just glancing at a word written in _Elwýntencelle_ was instantly recognisable to him. So, starting from the top, he concentrated and read it slowly.

"_Araëmel-aryón, son of Indilaira-aránelle, of the House of Caladharan,_

_'Tar'Thalyón and Tar'__Allàwhta request your prescence for the crowning of the heir to the throne of __Elwý on the following Moonsday. A celebratory ball will follow, including a banquet in honour of our prince. On this joyous day, we welcome back our lost prince and celebrate the return of our future King._

_This invitation is to be presented on arrival for admittance.'_

_Araëmel, above is the invitation sent to all those invited to your celebratory ball. Preparations for the ceremony are underway and almost complete. You will be excused from lessons after tomorrow in order to properly prepare and learn your vows. Make sure you are prepared and do not disappoint us. _

_Tar'Thalyón and Tar'__Allàwhta__"_

Harry re-read it again, just to be sure he hadn't accidentally mis-read it, but no, the whole thing was perfectly clear. Obviously his grandparents had been too busy to inform him in person, or even send Quenah to do it, and so they'd written him a letter and had it delivered. But the whole thing was absurd. The crowning of the heir to the throne of _Elwý_? A ball? A banquet?

He read the last few lines again, just to be sure.

_"Do not _disappoint_ us?"_ He read out loud, slowly. _"_Vows_!?"_ Vows? In front of the entire Court? A crowning? Like with an actual crown and all the fanfare and pomp?

Harry realised his fists were clenched so hard he was creasing the vellum and slowly let his fingers unfold. This was unbelievable. Of all the worst things that they could have done, they'd gone and done all three, and without even telling him!

He threw the vellum on the table and glared at it angrily. Now he couldn't wait for Quenah to get back so he could rant and yell - and most importantly, ask if he'd had any idea about it.

A few more minutes of angry sulking and brooding and finally there was a knock on the door. Harry got up, grabbing the letter, and marched to the door. He'd begun speaking even before it opened fully.

_"A ball? Celebration? What in Merlin's name is going on!? And you better hope you had no idea, because apparently this has been going on for a while now. They sent the invitations already!"_ He waved the parchment in Quenah's startled face, and then froze suddenly, feeling all the colour drain from his face.

Meldir and Taswa stared back at him with an equally ghostly pallor, and Meldir looked like he was going to be sick. Harry backed away from the door slowly and stared back and forth between his three friends.

Quenah cleared his throat. _"Well, I really have no idea what you're on about Araëmel, but I ran into your friends trying to find you and thought I'd bring them up for lunch. Surprise."_

Harry gaped wordlessly. Hadn't he ever told Quenah he'd never told his friends who he was?

No, he realised. He hadn't. Quenah had no idea they didn't know.

_"I'll go fetch lunch, shall I?"_ And then Quenah disappeared, leaving Harry to complete and utter silence. Slowly, he blinked, and then stepped to the side, leaving room for them to come through. He couldn't meet their eyes, so he dropped his gaze and waited.

After a bit there were a few soft shuffling noises and two bodies walked stiffly past him and into the room. Harry shut the door, leaning his back against it, still refusing to look up. What was he supposed to do now? What could he say?

Finally though, he could take the silence no longer. He cleared his throat softly and murmured, _"You can sit down."_

He glanced up when he heard shuffling again to find Taswa was pulling Meldir down into a seat. Her eyes were wide and she looked to be in shock. Harry wondered if they would suddenly jump up and start bowing, but neither seemed to be in any state to do so, so he slowly walked over and sat down opposite them, placing his hands in his lap and trying not to fidget. Still, he couldn't help it when one hand grasped the other and started clenching and unclenching.

Meldir broke the silence.

_"W-why,"_ he began shakily, _"Are you…"_ and then he trailed off and looked at Harry helplessly.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and managed a small, mocking twist of his lips. Maybe they still didn't quite realise the implications of where they were.

_"Why do _you_ think?"_ He asked his friend, wishing he was simply normal for once in his life.

_"Araëmel," _Taswa suddenly spoke up, _"what's...what's your House?"_

Harry was grateful. This way he could let them know the truth, but he wouldn't have to actually say the words out loud.

_"Caladharan."_

Taswa's hand travelled slowly up to her mouth and she covered it in shock. Her eyes were wide and she clearly couldn't speak. Meldir didn't look like he was going to be saying anything any time soon either. His mouth was opening and closing but nothing was coming out.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. What would they say now? What would they do? Would they treat him differently? Hate him? Bow down to him? That one was probably the worst. He didn't know what he would do if they started doing that.

Finally, he could take the silence no longer.

_"I'm sorry I lied."_

Two sets of wide eyes blinked back at him.

_"I just didn't want you to treat me like this. I wanted you to treat me normally. I get enough of being special back in the human realm, I don't need it here too."_

They still said nothing and Harry wasn't sure if he was getting through to them.

_"Look, do you think you ever would have talked to me if you knew I was the prince?"_ Harry finally demanded, glancing between them.

The word 'prince' seemed to shock both of his friends into the living again and they shifted slightly.

Meldir swallowed loudly. _"You...you're…"_

_"You're the _Prince!_"_ Taswa blurted out suddenly.

Harry nodded slowly.

That seemed to be too much for the usually level-headed girl. She shot upright and looked around wildly - at the gold and green room, at Harry, and then down at herself.

Suddenly, she reached out and gripped Meldir's arm and yanked him upright as well.

_"A-A thousand apologies for everything we ever did or said that offended you,"_ she started, looking close to tears. Her speech had become extremely formal. Meldir began nodding his head anxiously in agreement.

Then, she yanked them both down to the floor, where they knelt, shaking, with heads bowed.

Harry should have expected it, really, if anything his etiquette teacher had taught him had sunk in, but...but perhaps he'd been hoping that their friendship could have overcome social taboo enough to count for at least something.

Instead, he found himself staring down on two bowed heads and he let out a sigh.

_"What are you doing?"_ He finally asked softly, dreading the answer.

_"Awaiting punishment, your highness,"_ replied Taswa finally, in a voice so small, Harry was scarce sure he heard right.

Meldir said nothing. The usually upbeat and eccentric boy was shaking like a leaf.

_"I'm not going to punish you," _said Harry in a strained voice.

Meldir's head jerked, but didn't raise.

_"We have committed a crime, your highness,"_ responded Taswa in a deadened voice.

_"Crime?"_ Harry gaped. _"What crime!"_

Taswa flinched. _"I, daughter of a House-less Elwý, treated your highness like…"_ She swallowed thickly. _"...like an _equal_."_

Harry continued gaping. Of all the ridiculous things…!

_"A-and I,"_ Meldir finally spoke, _"raised my sword against you and treated you with rudeness."_

Harry began to get angry. Now they were both just being ridiculous!

_"First,"_ he snapped, causing them both to flinch back at his tone, _"you treated me like a _friend_, and last I checked, that is _not_ a crime. Second, Master Melcacrist knew full well who I was when he paired us up for matches, and it was on his orders that we sparred."_

_"B-but I'm such a low standing,"_ mumbled Meldir tearfully. _"You should be sparring with those of the High Court, not me."_

Harry's ears quivered with anger and he lost his cool slightly. _"Oh, so now you're going to tell _me_ what I _should_ be doing?"_

Meldir stiffened, and for the first time his head jerked up, eyes wide with shock.

_"N-no!"_ He protested pleadingly. _"No! I didn't mean-! I would never presume-! I apologise! I didn't mean…"_

_"So then," _Harry continued almost cruelly, _"if you aren't going to _tell_ me what to do, I'm going to damn well _do_ what I please, correct?"_

Meldir dropped his head in a nod. Next to him Taswa nodded stiffly as well.

_"And if I say you've done nothing wrong, that - in fact - you've treated me _exactly_ the way I wanted to be treated, then you're not going to argue. In fact, you are going to get up off the floor and _sit back down_ and look me in the eye when I speak to you, is that clear?"_

If there was anything to be said of his classes in **How to be a git 101**, it was that he had learned a very effective way of ordering people to do what he wanted. And, because of his lessons in politics and manipulation of words, Harry found himself twisting everything his 'friends' had said to his advantage.

So even if he had to act like the Prince for just a few minutes in order to get his message through Taswa and Meldir's thick heads, then by Merlin he was going to do it, guilt be damned.

He could apologise for being such a pompous arse later on, when they weren't scared stiff of him.

_If_ there was a later - Harry sure hoped so.

Fortunately, Harry had managed to perfect his 'commanding' tone after numerous lessons, and so Taswa and Meldir nearly jumped to their feet to sit back down on the couch. Their postures were stiff and even trembling, but to Harry it was at least some improvement.

Meldir was the first to look up and meet Harry's eyes. He gulped and continued to stare at Harry's face unwaveringly - just like Harry had ordered. Eventually, Taswa too raised her head.

_"Now,"_ said Harry softly, trying to get them both to relax a little, _"let's work through this rationally."_

Taswa swallowed thickly and opened her mouth hesitantly. When Harry showed no signs of wanting to stop her speaking, she did so nervously. _"Your highness, we apologise for everything we have said and done. If...if we are not to be punished, then we have overstayed our welcome and we beg our leave."_

Harry was unable to hide his scowl, and Taswa's gaze darted down again.

Perhaps Harry had underestimated the extent of the _Elwý_ obsession with station and blood. Clearly, the royal family was more highly revered that he had realised. Most of the elves he'd been dealing with on a regular basis were probably far more used to royal interaction than Melcacrist's young pupils.

Secretly, he wondered if his friendship was even redeemable, or if it was all over, now that they knew the truth. Hopefully it was the former.

Well, first things first.

_"First of all, I have a name. Use it."_

_"Y-yes, Araëmel-aryón."_

_"Araëmel-aryón,"_ repeated Meldir dutifully.

_"No,"_ said Harry sternly. _"My _name_. Just Araëmel."_

Two sets of wide eyes stared at him and neither of them said a thing.

_"You were perfectly capable before, and there's nothing stopping you now,"_ Harry prodded.

He suddenly felt a brief flicker of triumph when Taswa's gaze turned bitter for a moment - but then she composed herself and it was over. Still, Harry knew that the defiant, feisty girl he knew was still beneath the surface of her subservience, it was only a matter of overcoming the social indoctrination she was exhibiting. And once Taswa relaxed, Harry had no doubt that Meldir would follow her lead.

He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. This was such a pain. And it hurt. Badly.

_"Will you stop this already?"_ He eventually managed._ "Look, I'm not going to bite. I'm still the same person from before, nothing's changed. I'm still Araëmel. You don't need to act like this,"_ He pleaded. He added in a whisper, _"I don't want this."_

Taswa looked away, guilty. Meldir's shoulders drooped.

Finally, Meldir raised his head and said weakly, _"But you're the Prince, your highness."_

_"Araëmel,"_ Harry snapped automatically. _"And I don't fucking _care!_ It doesn't change who I am! So _what_ if I'm the bloody, Merlin-forsaken Prince? I don't care, and neither should you!" _He stared at them, hurting more by the second, and knew he couldn't continue on arguing like this. Either they were his friends…or they weren't. _"I thought we were friends. Friends don't treat each other like this. Friends don't care about stupid things like stations and power."_

That was the right thing to say. Both Taswa and Meldir recoiled so badly that Harry knew he was getting to them. When Taswa looked up, tears were in her eyes - but her jaw was set, and her gaze steady as she replied.

_"There's no higher treason than treating the royal family like...like... We were...we were _friends_, but despite that, our actions towards you are still punishable. If...if their Majesties found out they would…"_

And suddenly Harry understood. They weren't so much afraid of him, but afraid of his grandparents and what they would do. And he had to admit that he found it easy to imagine that it wouldn't be above the Queen to try and dictate who he could be friends with. In fact, only Quenah and Melcacrist even really knew that Harry was associating with other young _Elwý_ his age and both of them didn't care a whit.

Now looking at his friends in a new light, Harry found himself relaxing. He even gave them a sort of half-smile.

_"If that's what you're worried about, then don't,"_ he informed them both calmly. _"My grandparents might not approve. In fact, I can probably safely say they _won't_ approve." _Both Taswa and Meldir's faces drained of colour. _"But, there's nothing they can do about it."_

_"What?"_ Blurted out Meldir, before clapping a hand over his mouth and freezing.

Harry crossed his arms. _"There's nothing they can do. I won't let them. If they try to do anything...well bully for them, because I won't back down. I'll find a way to make them agree. I'll threaten to abdicate the throne if they do maybe, who knows? I'm the last of their bloodline, there's no way they'd let that happen."_

His friend's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the threat.

_"No!"_ Cried Meldir, completely forgetting who he was talking to. _"Don't do that! Please!"_

Harry rolled his eyes.

_"You mustn't,"_ agreed Taswa earnestly. _"Please, you musn't! No one can replace you! You are our _Prince_. Please don't leave."_

Harry sighed at their mild panic. On the bright side they seemed to have forgotten they were supposed to be humbled and polite, but on the other, he'd now incited further panic. _"Calm down. I'm not going to abdicate, though I don't really want to rule, nor do I think I'll be a very good King, to be honest, but I know how much I mean to everyone."_ That was perhaps the one thing that did make him happy about being who he was. For once he wasn't just revered only when the people needed him to be a hero, and then discarded the moment he no longer was. This time he truly was cared for, even if it was in a rather obsessive, devoted kind of way. _"But that doesn't mean I can't bluff it."_ At Meldir and Taswa's sceptical expressions, Harry sighed again. _"Look. I'll find a way, I promise. I wouldn't let them get angry at you or punish you. I choose my friends, not them, and they'll just have to deal with it." _His tone was final.

Both Taswa and Meldir shifted contemplatively and exchanged glances. Harry decided to be patient and let them think for a bit, but a knock at the door interrupted them all and as one they all turned to stare at the door.

The knock came again, and Harry belatedly realised that he needed to call out permission to enter his rooms.

_"Come in."_

The door creaked open and a collared servant poked her head through. When she saw Harry entertaining two guests, she ducked her head subserviently and shuffled inside with several trays of food.

She set them down quietly and then left equally as silently - almost as if she'd never come at all. Harry saw neither hide nor hair of Quenah, who should have been there as well. He had a sneaking suspicion that his friend was trying to give him some "alone time" with his friends. Either that, or he must have realised he'd made a mistake and was wisely avoiding Harry until the boy could calm down.

Which was really quiet a shame - he dearly wanted to vent at someone without them cowering in fear the moment he opened his mouth.

He turned back to his friends and wondered if they'd be up for lunch. He offered delicately. _"All right, look. While you two think about what we've talked about, why don't we all have something to eat?"_

But both elves stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

_"We can't _dine_ with you,"_ Taswa gasped, shocked. _"That's completely improper!"_

Harry lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. _"So?"_ He turned to Meldir and added, _"And since when did you ever care about what's proper? Come on, the food's really nice."_

Meldir glanced slowly at the table and the platters of meats and breads and fruits and cheese. Harry stood slowly, noticing with an internal sigh that his friends jumped to their feet the moment he did. He walked over to the table and pulled out three of the four chairs.

_"Come on," _he coaxed. _"I can't eat it all by myself."_

Meldir took a hesitant step towards the table. Taswa looked like she was about to stop him, but froze at the last moment and Meldir continued on. Not knowing what else to do, she followed him. Harry sat down and they tentatively followed suit.

Trying to hide his grin, and certain now that their friendship had only hit a small bump in the road and was well on its way to recovery, Harry happily told them to help themselves and set about eating with relish.

They both watched him eat (which was slightly unnerving), and eventually Meldir was the first to crack. The other elf reached across the table and slowly picked up a piece of bread like it was about to bite him. When it did no such thing, he began to gather toppings; and when none of those blew up in his face, he put it all together and took a healthy bite.

Then he blinked and said, _"This _is_ good."_

_"Told you,"_ said Harry knowingly, smirking slightly.

Taswa sighed, then huffed, and finally reached for her own bread. Refusing to look at either of them, she steadily made herself the elven equivalent of a sandwich.

Harry smiled into his bread. Perfect. Things were definitely looking up.

* * *

**AN: **Well, I wanted to get this up before midnight as a sort of pseudo present (since it's my birthday...egads, I'm getting old!), but I figure that in some parts of the world (i.e. USA) it's still May 6th, so I'm safe. ^_^

Anyway, after tallying the poll results, there was an overwhelming majority voting to read about more Harry/elves interaction, so I've got two more chapters of this planned out. Of course, I'm still not entirely sure how long I should make it, as some people prefered that I get on with the story and bring Harry back to the wizarding world. So, if people have any opinions on this, e.g. how long I should draw out Harry's summer before getting back to Hogwarts, then please do leave your ideas and thoughts in a review or a PM or something, okay?

Cheers!

Also, I'd like to take the time to say that I'm really happy at the response this story has gotten, despite my original intentions of simply writing it as a cliched fic for my own enjoyment. But from the amount of alerts and favourites this has gotten (not to mention it's been put on a whopping 23 C2s!) I can't help but feel like I really need to crack down and really plan ahead to finish this.

Either way though, I'm sorry to say that this is the last chapter you'll be seeing for a while. For this month and part of the next, I've got exams. In fact, I had one today (and one last week) and it's a miracle that I got this edited and up (but it's my birthday, so screw exams for a moment...). But I won't be able to write at all for the next month, so you'll have to wait until I return home for the summer.

But once summer roles around, I'll try to get at least 2 or even 3 new chapters up! I promise!

Well, that's it for now. And I'd really appreciate some comments on this chapter. I can't help but feel it was a bit rushed and the beginning doesn't flow well maybe? And what do you think of the way I'm forming this elf world of mine? And Harry's new friend's reactions?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time and/or voted. I read every single one and they all really made my day (even if it was just a vote, cause those were really helpful!)!

xoxRia


	10. Family

**Chapter 10:  
**

Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. From the left, from the right, from everywhere around him he was fenced in. He was suffocating under the immense pressure of the past three days: the vows, the preparations, the practice, the clothes. If he wasn't being poked and prodded by a multitude of tailors, the goldsmiths were hounding him. Or if he wasn't being forced to recite vows again and again, he was being made to walk down the centre of the throne room, and if even a single step was wrong, he had to start all over again.

It was just one thing after another, and it had all happened so fast Harry had hardly had time to think on it - he just did it.

But the stress of the past few days was catching up to him, and he needed to escape, or suffer a mental breakdown. So, with that in mind, he sneaked out.

When he was left to his own devices for five minutes, Harry quickly pocketed the overly creased piece of vellum containing the vows he had to memorise, and tiptoed out of his room and down the hall. When no one seemed to be coming, he made a dash for the doors and creaked them open.

The guards on the other side turned to stare at him.

Harry raised a finger to his lips and looked at them pleadingly. Exchanging glances, they slowly turned their heads back to face the front, and he slipped out the doors and made a dash for the end of the long hall. If he could manage to get as far as possible from the tower before his next torturer showed up, then he might be able to snatch a few hours for himself.

He wasn't a moment too soon. He'd just leapt off the last stair and dashed into a side-hall when the royal tailor and her group of underlings rounded a different corner and headed for the stairs.

Harry waited for them to pass, and then continued on his way. There was one place he could go where he knew no one would look for him - Meldir's apartment.

Harry hadn't seen Meldir, nor Taswa, since that fateful day in his rooms; he'd simply been too busy. But, eventually they'd relaxed more around him, and while they were jumpy and still overly polite, they had made an effort to try and treat him the same as before.

Harry desperately needed that at the moment. He needed to be around people his own age to talk and laugh with and simply relax. What he wouldn't give for Ron and Hermione at the moment!

It took him well over an hour to get down to the third section of the palace as, as soon as Harry was discovered MIA, every royal guard had been deployed to find him and bring him back. No doubt his grandparents would be _furious_ with him, but Harry was beyond caring by this point. He'd had quite enough of their silly, stuffy formalities, and it's not like it would kill them to let him off for a few hours. He had his vows down pat, his clothes were ready and it was only the tailor's obsessiveness with perfection that made her keep coming back to alter them, and he was also pretty sure by this point that he could navigate the throne room in his sleep.

So, really, didn't he deserve some peace and quiet for the last half of the day?

With that in mind, Harry found himself knocking on Meldir's apartment door, having successfully found it after a few wrong turns and some helpful directions.

Eruahna opened the door.

_"Araëmel!"_ She said in surprise.

Harry had only ever come over accompanied by Taswa, so this was a first.

_"Hello,"_ replied Harry with a crooked grin. _"Is Meldir in?"_

Eruahna blinked and then smiled back, opening the door wider. _"Yes, yes he is. Please come in."_

Harry stepped in with relief. The emotion spread through him quickly, and increased after the door was shut behind him. He was safe now - the guards wouldn't think to look for him in an apartment belonging to the lower echelons of the Houses.

_"Please be seated,"_ murmured Eruahna, _"I'll go fetch my brother."_

Harry nodded and collapsed gratefully onto their couch. Eruahna disappeared though an open arch and he eventually heard her footsteps go up what sounded like stairs before disappearing. He wondered how many levels the apartments had, and how big they were.

He didn't wait long before he heard two sets of footsteps growing closer, and Harry twisted his head, ears cocked, just in time to watch Meldir and his sister come back into the main sitting room.

_"A-araëmel,"_ greeted Meldir nervously.

Harry sighed and tried to give him a reassuring smile. _"Hey, Meldir. I hope you don't mind, but I've come over."_

Eruahna glanced between them with a frown and then quietly stepped away, turned, and retreated into the kitchen. Meldir watched after her, before turning back to Harry, eyes wide and chewing his lip anxiously.

_"Should you be here right now?"_ He asked.

Harry shrugged. _"Technically, no. I sort of escaped."_ At Meldir's horrified look, he quickly added, _"Sorry."_

_"B-but...they'll be so angry,"_ moaned the other boy.

Harry's fingers plucked at his pant leg and he let out a great sigh. He really wanted to bury his head in his hands and groan, but thought that might be a bit excessive.

_"So what?"_ He replied, mumbling. _"Let them be angry. Do you know how stressful it's been? I've been constantly hounded from sun up to sun down."_

Harry heard Meldir slowly cross the room and sit down opposite him. Harry lifted his head and shot his friend a weak smile. Meldir's mouth moved in what was probably supposed to be a return smile, but ended up looking more like a grimace.

_"But it's your duty."_

Harry ducked his head and scowled heavily. _"Don't be like that. They're just being ridiculous by now with all the preparations. They haven't given me a moment of peace, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and escape."_

Meldir stared at him. _"But...what about the crowning?"_

Harry shrugged, suppressing a shudder. _"I've learned my vows backwards and forwards, and I've walked down the damn throne room so many times I could do it in my sleep. It's driving me nuts!"_

There was a crash to Harry's right and both boys whipped their heads around to stare. Meldir jumped to his feet.

_"Eruahna!"_

Eruahna stood in the archway, her hands still outstretched where she'd been holding the small tray of drinks. The tray now lay at her feet, the spilt liquid steadily spreading across the polished stone and lapping at the edges of her dress. She stared blankly in Harry's direction.

_"Sister, what's wrong! What happened?"_ Cried Meldir, hurrying forward to grasp her hands.

Eruahna seemed to shake herself mentally and she blinked down at her younger brother.

_"Oh,"_ she breathed. _"Oh, dear. Whoops. It must have slipped. Silly me, I'll just...go get some more…"_ trailing off, she tugged her hands away and turned around, about to head back to the kitchen, except that Meldir grabbed her sleeve and demanded quite harshly,

_"What's _wrong_?"_

She turned her head and, with a quick, almost indiscernible glance at Harry, smiled tremulously at Meldir. _"It's nothing. I just...thought I misheard something. But I think I was just hearing things. I'm sorry. I'll just clean this up, shall I?"_

Harry had an inkling of what might have caused Eruahna's shock. If she'd overheard him ranting about the preparations for the crowning, then she had probably (rightly) guessed who he was and was now trying to convince herself she had heard wrongly. He wasn't sure what would be worse - leaving her to her delusions for the time being, or telling her outright he was _exactly_ who she thought he was.

When Eruahna bent to try and clean up her spill, Harry belatedly realised that she couldn't perform magic (because she was blue-eyed), so he stood up quickly, determined to help, and offered to do it for her. This was, perhaps, not the best thing to do, as she choked and refused vehemently. Harry exchanged glances with Meldir.

Meldir had magic, so Harry asked him, _"Why don't you do it then?"_

Meldir shrugged uncomfortably and replied, _"I don't really know much magic. Right now I'm focusing on my physical skills, and…"_ He trailed off, a flush staining his cheeks.

Harry frowned. _"And what?"_

_"We don't have enough money or prestige to be able to afford having me learn two different things at once."_

Harry's mouth formed an 'O' shape, _"Oh." _Then he glanced sternly at Eruahna and insisted vehemently that he be allowed to take care of it.

This time Meldir protested with a horrified, _"But you can't! Please don't!"_

Harry simply rolled his eyes, and, utilising his elementary knowledge of elvish magic, extended a single finger to draw in the air, much to both elves' protests. He made the basic circular shape, going anti-clockwise to indicate a dispelling technique, and inscribed the rune for 'vanish' in the centre. It took him a bit longer than it would have had he simply used a vanishing charm with his wand, but that was only because he was new to the magic and his hand movements weren't all that steady.

Besides, he'd been told that when he became more proficient, and his mental control increased, he would only have to indicate the circle for such simple spells, and his mental concentration would do the rest.

He directed the magic at the mess of liquid and shattered glass on the floor, and in an instant it had disappeared. Then he used several tendrils of air to pick up the tray on the floor, and sent it floating gently into Eruahna's hands.

Meldir sighed after he was done and put his head in his hands. _"I can't believe you did that."_

Harry shot him a look. _"It's not a big deal. It was much quicker and easier that way."_

_"But…"_ muttered Meldir pathetically.

Harry turned back around and sat down resolutely, effectively ending that argument.

_"I'll...I'll just go get some more drinks,"_ murmured Eruahna.

Meldir heaved a sigh and came shuffling back over. He collapsed down into his seat and put a hand over his eyes. Then, he let out a half-laugh, half-snigger.

_"You're impossible, you know that?"_ Laughed Meldir, having clearly cracked.

Harry raised his eyebrows in concern.

_"I mean, you act _nothing_ like you should! You call me friend, never flaunt anything, and even demean yourself by cleaning up other people's messes."_

Harry coughed and said challengingly, _"Is that a problem?"_

Meldir uncovered his eyes and shook his head with a laugh. _"No. No, I think I've finally accepted that it's not. You're never going to do what's expected of you, are you?"_

Harry found his mouth stretched in a wide grin. Finally! _"You got that right! I live to rebel. No one tells me how I'm supposed to act." _

And while that hadn't necessarily been true several years ago, after having lived through as much as he had, Harry had developed a healthy disrespect for authority and an equally stubborn will to defy. After being slandered from every direction, he no longer really cared what people thought or said about him - except for those important to him. Their opinion was the only one which mattered.

_"I'm really beginning to see that,"_ replied Meldir. Then he cleared his throat, reached up to scratch one ear, which twitched rather violently, and said with a nervous laugh, _"So, you're, uh, rebelling against their Majesties, huh?"_

Harry nodded. _"Yeah. Well, kind of. I mean, I respect them, but they're very controlling, and sometimes I just sort of have to take matters into my own hands. I won't disappoint them, though."_

He paused and bit his lip, a few well hidden insecurities rising to the surface. _"...I think…"_

Meldir shot him a sympathetic look. _"Don't worry, you said so yourself, you'll be fine."_

Harry frowned. _"But what if I suddenly forget everything because I'm too nervous?"_

_"You won't,"_ said Meldir fiercely. _"You'll be perfect, I know it! You have everything memorised, you said, so you'll do everything just like you've done before."_

Harry quirked a smile. Well, at least one person believed in him wholly and without reservation. Even Quenah was nervous that he was going to mess up somehow.'

_"Thanks, Mel. I guess you're right. And I'm pretty sure I do have everything memorised. Every word."_

_"See."_

Harry laughed softly, and that was when Eruahna rejoined them. She shot Harry a questioning look, but smiled lightly and placed her tray with fresh drinks on the small table and sat down.

She passed out the glasses and took one for herself. Then she asked, _"So, why have you joined us this afternoon, Araëmel?"_

Harry grinning impishly over his glass and, keeping an eye on Meldir to watch for his reaction, said cheerfully, _"Just escaping the evil machinations of my tyrannic grandparents."_

Meldir choked on his drink. And then he kept choking until Eruahna, startled, slapped him hard on the back.

Gasping for breath, Meldir stared at Harry in shock. Harry grinned.

_"Y-you-!"_ Gasped Meldir.

_"Me,"_ replied Harry happily, having too much fun to stop.

_"You just…"_

_"Mmhm."_

_"This doesn't leave the room! Ever!"_

Harry laughed and agreed for Meldir's peace of mind. And perhaps for the safety of his own skin as well.

_"I don't understand,"_ said Eruahna, glancing between the two of them in confusion. _"You have horrible grandparents?"_

Meldir made a funny choking noise and his sister's hand automatically went to slap him, but he managed to duck in time.

_"Don't say that,"_ he moaned.

Eruahna frowned.

Harry chuckled. _"They're not horrible, just a bit controlling."_ Which was sort of an understatement, but he didn't want to send Meldir into another spastic fit.

_"Oh."_

Harry smiled at her her confusion. Even confused, she still managed to look stunningly beautiful - then again, so did most elves he'd seen. He wondered what she was always doing around the apartment, and not out with friends or learning some sort of art or trade. For that matter, where were Meldir's parents? Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of them. Meldir hadn't even mentioned them. He had never really asked, as he didn't want to seem prying.

He turned back to his friend and tried to divert their conversation onto other things for the time being.

_"So, how's Taswa?"_

_"Ah, she's fine. Still a bit shaken."_

Harry sighed and ran through his hair, catching his right ear and scraping it lightly. _"Oh. I guess she…"_

_"Don't worry. She's just had to work so hard to get where she is, and I think she's terrified of losing it all by doing the slightest thing wrong,"_ Meldir explained gently.

Harry supposed that would explain a few things. Taswa didn't have a House after all. She was all but the equivalent of a peasant, except that he knew that her father was fairly well off.

_"Well, I'd never let that happen to her. She's my friend...and I protect my friends,"_ he said seriously.

Meldir shifted in his seat, staring past Harry for a moment. Then his eyes darted back and he smiled crookedly. _"Thanks. I...just, thanks."_

Eruahna placed a gentle hand on her brother's shoulder when he looked away again.

Harry nodded solemnly, though he was slightly confused. What else had Meldir expected him to say? _"Of course. I mean, that's what friends are for, right?"_

Meldir shook his head quickly. _"No, I meant...thanks for being my friend. That day I bumped into you, and with the way I acted...I'm really surprised you picked me, really."_

Harry blinked in surprise. He worked his mouth uselessly for a few seconds before he found the right words. _"What on earth are you talking about? You were the first person to treat me normally. You don't know how much that meant to me."_ He paused and grinned sheepishly, remembering something. _"Then again, I hadn't yet realised my skin was gone, you know, but still...the other people seemed more stuck up, and you were so frank and you were concerned about me later when I was upset, and you came after me and talked to me. You're a really good guy."_

Meldir stared at him in shock. Eruahna let out a soft, _"Oh my,"_ and busied herself quickly with her drink.

Suddenly, Meldir barked a laugh. He started laughing so hard he had to put his glass down until his laughter subsided, and when it did, he leaned forward and grinned at Harry.

_"Yeah, truth be told, I would have done that for anyone if they'd let me, but it just happened to be you and...well, it kind of makes me laugh to know that the reason why everyone else shuns me is the reason you picked me."_

Harry frowned, glancing at Eruahna in confusion, hoping she could shed some light on the situation. She ducked her head with a small smile and let her brother explain.

_"What I guess I mean,"_ said Meldir, _"is that no one wanted to associate with me because I had 'horrible manners' and 'low breeding'. I mean, except Taswa of course. So, it's just really funny that of all people, you picked me _because _I acted the way I did with you."_

Harry finally got where Meldir was coming from. Harry, being the Prince, should have been the least likely person to want to associate with Meldir for the same reasons that none of the other _Elwý_ of higher standing wanted to, but instead it was those very qualities that drew Harry to him - and if Meldir's classmates had any idea, they'd probably drop dead from shock. Either that or fall over themselves to befriend Meldir as well.

Harry started to snigger, his eyes lighting up at the internal joke.

Meldir started to laugh again as well, and this time it was Eruahna who was left out of the loop. She looked on in indulgent confusion and eventually sighed and collected their glasses to return to the kitchen, leaving them to their laughing fit.

Eventually, Harry's laughter petered out and he doubled over gasping.

_"Y-you know,"_ he managed to get out, _"if you want me to, after this stupid crowning coronation thing, I can rub it in their faces for you."_

Meldir straightened, a thoughtful look on his face. _"That would be nice,"_ he said wistfully.

_"Okay, I'll do it."_

_"But you probably shouldn't,"_ Meldir amended. _"It'd just cause tension within the Houses, and you might make enemies."_

Harry raised an eyebrow, then he smirked and stuck his nose in the air in a fair imitation of Draco Malfoy and his etiquette teacher, and sneered, _"But I'm the _Prince_. I can do what I want."_

Meldir started to snicker again, which almost covered up the gasp Eruahna let out and the thump she made when she collapsed against the archway, clutching the stone in a death-grip.

Meldir quickly stopped laughing, his eyes wide. _"Sis,"_ he said weakly. _"Don't panic."_

_"Are you all right?"_ Harry added in concern. Eruahna looked rather pale.

_"P-prince,"_ she stuttered.

Harry sighed and stood up, figuring he ought to clear things up and make proper introductions - after all, that's what his etiquette teacher said he should do.

_"I apologise for the deception,"_ he began softly, feeling rather proud of himself for not only using proper words, but also for the way he was managing to handle himself - the Demon-Witch From Hell would be proud. _"Allow me to introduce myself properly. Araëmel o'Caladharan."_

Eruahna's legs gave out from underneath her and she began to slump to the floor. Harry didn't think, he simply did; he wrapped a pillow of air around her and caught her before she could completely collapse. Motioning with his hand, and feeling the strain of such a heavy burden, but determined not to show it, he floated her gently over to the couch and set her down carefully. She stared at him in shock.

_"Wow," _said Meldir, impressed, _"I couldn't lift a whole person. Neat."_

Harry shot him a wry smile. _"I've been practising. Grandmother says that I can't show any weakness, nor be outdone by others."_ He snorted.

_"No pressure,"_ added Meldir dryly.

Harry snorted again.

_"Sis, you okay?"_ Asked Meldir, bending down to peer into his sister's blank gaze.

She blinked at him and worked her mouth silently, finally managing, _"I-I don't understand…what…?"_

_"You know, me and Taswa had the same reaction when we found out, but don't worry. It's fine. Araëmel's my friend."_

_"And,"_ Harry added quickly, _"nothing's going to happen, so there's no need to panic."_

_"Araëmel...aryón?"_ She whispered, staring at him.

Harry smiled weakly and nodded. _"Yes."_

_"Oh,"_ she said. _"Oh."_

Harry and Meldir exchanged glances.

_"Oh,"_ she repeated for a third time.

_"I think I broke her,"_ observed Harry worriedly, but not without a smidgen of amusement. Eruahna's reaction was much different from any of the others so far.

Meldir let out a short laugh, which he quickly choked back. _"Come on, sister, snap out of it."_

_"I…"_

_"Should I leave?"_ Harry asked uncertainly.

_"No, no,"_ Meldir hastened to assure him. _"You'd just have to go back then, won't you? Stay. She'll be fine in a moment, once she's absorbed all the information properly."_

Harry chewed his lip and shrugged. Then he sat down again. He glanced at Eruahna and found her eyes still fixed unblinkingly on him - he looked away hurriedly.

_"Umm...are you sure?"_

Meldir glanced at his sister again and shrugged, remarking dryly, _"Well, actually, no. But she can't stay like this forever, can she?"_

Slowly, Eruahna's head turned to stare at her brother. Then her expression darkened and her arm flashed up in a blur of movement, cuffing Meldir around the head.

_"How dare you be so rude! Use polite language - _polite!_"_

Harry quickly clamped a hand over his mouth to suppress the laughter that bubbled out at Meldir's wounded expression.

_"It's okay,"_ he said amusedly. _"I don't mind. In fact, I prefer normal language...it's easier."_

Eruahna turned her head to stare at him again and Harry fidgeted.

_"Eruahna, that hurt! You don't need to get violent, you know…"_ Meldir pouted. His hand was rubbing the side of his head gingerly.

_"You were rude to his Highness,"_ replied Eruahna automatically though she was still staring at Harry. Then she suddenly blinked and glanced down at her hand, staring at the slightly reddened skin.

_"Eruahna…"_ Harry ventured quietly. Her head jerked up and she stared at him again with wide blue eyes. _"It's okay. It's really _okay_. You don't have to act like this. Just pretend I'm the same Araëmel from before. I'm still the same me. So what if I'm Prince Araëmel? To be honest, the concept is still new to me - I grew up thinking I was just some human wizard named Harry Potter. And...I would really like it if you would be my friend instead of my subject."_ Harry finished off what was seeming to become a well-used speech with a soft inhale and waited.

_"I…"_

Eruahna looked so lost, Harry felt guilty. He should really stop acting like being the Prince didn't mean anything...because it obviously did. To the _Elwý _the royal family was taken so much more seriously than he felt comfortable with, but trying to laugh it off only seemed to cause more problems. He needed to take his position a bit more seriously and prevent this sort of emotional turmoil in his friends.

_"Araëmel? Why don't we go up to my room and let my sister be for a while. I'm sure she'd rather be alone to think about what you said,"_ offered Meldir rather generously.

Eruahna's eyes flicked to her brother and her lips quirked up slightly.

Harry agreed instantly. He wanted to see Meldir's room, and he didn't want to cause more undue stress to Eruahna - she was such a nice person, he couldn't help but like her immensely.

Meldir's room was on the second floor of their apartment. The small set of stairs was set in one corner, rounded in a spiral, just like a normal human castle, though they were adorned with far wider windows than any human ones would be. It made the staircase light and airy. Harry rounded the last bend and stepped onto the second floor. It was much like the first in that there was a large open space with what looked like three arches, all with carved wooden doorways. Meldir veered towards the far left-most room, his friend following.

_"Well, this is my room,"_ said Meldir, a light stain of pink across his checks as he ducked his head. _"It's nothing like you're used to, I'm sure, but…"_ He pushed open the door, which swung soundlessly open.

Harry stepped inside, looked around, and instantly liked it.

The room was indeed small. There was a bed big enough for a single person pushed up against one corner carved out of white wood with light blue sheets. A desk sat against a wall opposite the bed and near the door. A few books and pieces of vellum were strewn across it. Two shelves held a couple more books. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed, no doubt for Meldir's clothes, and his sword was hung up on the wall, one of the few decorations.

It was small, but cosy, and the single window let in plenty of light.

_"I like it,"_ Harry told his friend, smiling. He would have given anything for a room like this not too long ago.

Meldir shot him an incredulous expression. _"You're joking."_

_"Nope."_

Meldir collapsed on his bed and stared at Harry, sweeping an arm out around him. _"What's there to like? I don't own much. It's tiny compared to yours. Your room is...well...this can hardly compare."_

Harry walked over to the window and peered out at the view. It wasn't much of one, which was to be expected, all considered, but it could have been worse. He turned around after a few moments and frowned at Meldir.

_"It's not the size that counts you know. Besides, the room I have now...it's kind of surreal I think. Sometimes I wake up and wonder what I'm doing in it, cause it's much too grand. It's weird…"_ He trailed off, thinking of the kinds of rooms he _was_ used to. Images of Ron's bright orange monstrosity of a room came to mind, and the Gryffindor dormitories. He refused to think of the cupboard under the stairs - that hadn't been a room, more like a prison.

_"You're the Prince, remember?"_ Said Meldir dubiously, as if he wasn't sure about Harry's current mental state.

_"Well, yeah."_ Harry rolled his eyes. _"But like I told you before, I had no clue until just recently, so...it's still a bit odd."_

_"You don't like your room?"_

Harry blinked, startled at the thought. Did he not like it? He thought he did like it, since it was _his_ room for a change, but...he had to admit that it sometimes made him a little uncomfortable to be in such a big, opulent room.

_"No…"_ he eventually said, _"no, I like it. It's mine, so I don't really care what it looks like. It could be small or big or fancy or not, but I think the most important thing is that it's _mine_, you know?"_ He glanced around him, wrapping a knuckle on the soft white stone of Meldir's walls. _"I mean, you like your room right? Cause it's yours?"_

Meldir was nodding thoughtfully. _"Yeah, I get you."_

_"I guess it's my first room too. My first _real_ room,"_ Harry added with a small, pleased smile.

Meldir glanced at him side-ways. _"What are you talking about?"_

Harry settled back against the wall and hooked his thumbs through the wide leather belt he was wearing. He shrugged. _"Well, I don't really consider the Dursley house - that's my Aunt's house, by the way - to be my home, not really. They never treated me like real family and the only reason I even _got_ a room was 'cause they were scared the wizards would find out they weren't-"_ He cut off suddenly, realising what he was saying and swallowed thickly. He gave a nervous laugh and muttered, _"You know what? Never mind, forget it. Let's talk about something else."_

But Meldir was gazing at him with wide eyes. Harry had revealed too much. Had he wanted to? Wanted to talk about it to someone? But all his friends back home already knew, so he could talk about it to them whenever he wanted...so why let it slip out now?

_"What are you _talking_ about?"_ Meldir whispered warily.

Harry bit his lip and turned his head away. _"I said never mind. It's not important, I was just…making stuff up."_

Meldir's gaze hardened and set his jaw. _"You didn't sound like you were making it up."_

_"Just drop it!" _Snapped Harry.

_"No!" _Shouted Meldir, then he sucked in a breath in surprise and glanced at his open door. No doubt Eruahna had heard that, even with the subtle magic in the walls of the castle which were supposed to sound proof rooms.

Meldir turned hesitant eyes towards Harry again and said waveringly, _"You said I was your...your friend, didn't you? Why are you hiding something? You don't trust me?"_

The guilt ate away at Harry's consciousness. Meldir was perfectly correct of course - after all the convincing he had gone through to gain the other elf's friendship, and this is how he repaid that trust?

Harry slid down the wall and drew up his knees, hiding his head between them and squashing his ears rather uncomfortably. There was a shifting noise and slight vibrations from Meldir's footsteps and then he was kneeling down next to Harry and touching his shoulder hesitantly.

_"Look, I promise not to judge or anything...I don't know what this is all about but...I'm a good listener, remember?"_

Harry cracked a small smile from between his knees, knowing which incident Meldir was referring to. His head popped up.

_"Yeah, you are. I dunno why I'm making such a big deal out of it either. I guess the talk of rooms just got me thinking about it...I never really minded before. I'm getting spoilt."_

Meldir laughed, his grin wide. _"I don't think you can get any _more_ spoiled, your Highness."_

Harry wrinkled his nose and shot his friend a dirty look. _"Yeah, thanks."_

_"No problem. Come on, let's sit on my bed. There's enough room and it's a lot more comfortable than sitting on the floor."_

Harry allowed Meldir to help him up though he could have done it just as easily on his own. He fell back on the bed with a sigh and stared at the ceiling. To his surprise, he discovered that the stone had a pattern carved into it. It was very interesting.

_"So, let's talk,"_ Meldir began the conversation.

Harry took a deep breath. _"Okay. I'll explain. Just...don't freak out, okay?"_

_"Is it really that bad?"_

Harry turned his head to peer up at the other boy. _"Well, no, not really, not to me at least. Like I said, I don't know why I'm getting so worked up over it, because I really don't care anymore."_

_"Then don't worry, I won't freak out."_

Famous last words, Harry soon discovered.

_"Well, you know I was talking about how I'd never had a real room before because at my aunt's house they only gave me my cousin's second bedroom because they were afraid that my wizarding friends would find out they were...that my 'room' was the cupboard under the stairs."_

Harry watched Meldir warily for his reaction. To his initial surprise, Meldir only blinked and frowned in puzzlement, asking what a 'cupboard under the stairs' was. Harry supposed that the palace didn't really have supply closets under the marble staircases dotting the building. It was only after Harry had explained the relative size of his cupboard that Meldir began to have fits.

_"WHAT?"_ Bellowed the young _Elwý. _

_"I thought you said you weren't going to freak out!"_ Harry tried to negotiate.

_"A CUPBOARD?"_ Roared Meldir, going red in the face. _"How DARE they? That's a crime worthy of execution!"_

Harry wisely didn't inform his friend that his relatives had also worked him like a slave - although he was mildly interested as to what kinds of colours an elf's face turned when they were that angry.

Instead, he said, _"Uh, I wouldn't go that far really…"_

_"CUPBOARD!"_ Exclaimed Meldir, hand pounding on his mattress for emphasis. Strands of his hair began to flutter about strangely and his eyes were glowing much brighter than usual.

Harry sat up and edged away slightly. Over Meldir's incoherent raging, he also heard light footsteps hurrying up the stairs, and soon Eruahna's worried face was peering through the doorway.

_"What's going on!"_ She cried.

_"Nothing!"_ Harry tried to say, but Meldir's exclamations drowned him out.

_"He lived in a cupboard! A _cupboard_! They made him live in a cupboard! They-"_

Eruahna clutched onto the door frame, looking about as pale as she had not minutes earlier.

_"What?"_ She gasped.

_"Seriously, it's not a big deal!"_ Harry tried to interrupt.

_"A cupboard! A small cupboard with a cot! Not even worthy of a slave!"_ Meldir wailed.

_"You said you wouldn't freak out!"_ Harry tried to reason, grabbing one of Mel's flailing arms. A harsh breeze tugged at his skin and the ends of his sleeves where he grasped his friend.

Meldir turned to him, eyes bright and demanded, _"Have you told their Majesties? Has this injustice been dealt with? Have they been punished?"_

_"What?"_ Gasped Harry, letting go abruptly and edging so far back his back was pressed against the wall. _"No! That's awful, punished? Of course not!"_

_"But they committed treason!"_

_"My uncle and cousin have no idea who I am,"_ Harry pointed out sensibly.

Meldir's expression only darkened and he all but snarled,_ "But your aunt did! The Princess should have known better!"_

Harry stared in fascination at Meldir's face. His green eyes were now glowing brightly and his hair seemed to have a life of its own. Surprisingly, whatever force was blowing around the other elf wasn't touching Harry at all - he couldn't feel a thing. Meldir looked a right sight - almost scary - and it was a side of the boy Harry had never seen before.

_"I agree,"_ spoke Eruahna, face stony, _"this is unacceptable...though, are you sure Meldir? A cupboard? Is that even possible? Surely that's an exaggeration…?"_

Two sets of intense eyes stared at Harry and he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

_"Yes, I'm sure it was a cupboard, it was just rather big for a cupboard. I wouldn't be able to fit in it now though. Not very well. But stop fussing, they moved me into Dudley's second bedroom after I turned eleven."_

Meldir spluttered.

Harry continued. _"There are people who are far more unfortunate. You know, they could have left me in an orphanage, and then what? Or I could have ended up on the streets. At least they kept me. And it wasn't as bad as you're probably imagining-"_ Harry paused and bit his lip at the lie. It had actually been worse than they were imagining - but even then, he didn't count that as being the worst that could have happened to him. If they hadn't have kept him, then the death eaters might have been able to get to him. The house was protected against attacks like that.

_"Look," _he said peaceably, holding up both hands to stall any more arguments from the siblings, _"it's my prerogative whether I tell anyone...and it's really in the past. They don't treat me like that now-" _Another lie, _"-and there's no use crying over spilt milk. And seriously Meldir, what happened to not freaking out?"_

Meldir blinked and seemed to realise that he'd broken his promise. He blushed furiously and ducked his head, the tips of his ears a bright red.

_"Ummm, sorry."_

_"I do not think this behaviour is excusable,"_ Eruahna said softly from the doorway where she was still standing. She looked at Harry seriously as she spoke, which made Harry want to squirm.

_"Think of it this way,"_ he ventured, _"at least I'm humble and not some spoilt little brat always demanding his own way and getting it. And I'll never look down on anyone for their station in life."_ He could tell his argument was reaching them, so he continued more passionately. _"I've seen what privilege can do to people - it's not pretty. They're insufferable. I'm not saying that all people with power are like that, but it's more than likely I might have turned out differently if I'd been treated like a Prince from the start. And I don't want to be that person, so in a way, I'm kind of grateful."_

Eruahna's eyes had softened and Meldir was fiddling with his hands, now completely silent.

_"Please don't say anything,"_ Harry begged. _"I don't want to bring any trouble to the human world. My aunt's happy - and I don't think I'll ever go back to her, so there's no use making a fuss about it when I'll probably only see her a few more times in my life."_

_"If that is your Highness's desire, then I cannot oppose it...but know that I believe there should be retribution," _stated Eruahna formally.

Harry inclined his head, grateful. He turned to Meldir and waited for his response.

_"I…"_ Meldir looked up. He was biting his lip. _"I...It just makes me so mad...but...I guess I can't really do anything about it can I?"_

Harry let his head fall back against the wall with a relieved sigh.

_"Thanks Meldir."_

_"You promise you'll never go back to them?"_ Meldir asked pleadingly.

Harry shifted. _"I can't make any promises, Meldir. I might have to at one point - but at this rate it doesn't look like that's going to happen anyway."_

Meldir's jaw clenched and he looked ready to argue, strands of his hair picking up in an invisible breeze again, but at Harry's level look, he slumped his shoulders and sighed.

_"Okay."_

The conversation turned to more pleasant things after that - though only slightly. This time Eruahna joined in, sitting down in Meldir's desk chair and adding in a hesitant word here and there. Harry finally asked after Meldir's family, feeling it only fair after what he'd just revealed, and got some surprising answers in return.

As it turned out, Meldir's parents weren't in the capital. In order to maintain their status as a family with a House, both had to take care of the land they'd managed to acquire in some remote region of _Elwýn_. So, in order to give Meldir all the opportunities they could, they'd sent their son and daughter to the Palace. Harry was saddened to learn that Eruahna had had to give up her pursuit of music in order to accommodate her little brother - but, as she informed him with a smile, as a blue-eyed elf, she had less chance of going anywhere with her life than Meldir, who was not only green-eyed, but born with exceptionally strong magical potential. It was because of this magical potential that Meldir had been allowed to enter into training with Melcacrist - the only problem being that his family didn't have the money to allow for him to take magic lessons at the same time.

So, first came physical fighting, and if he was lucky he would go directly to the army. After serving in the army for a century, Meldir would have earned enough prestige and money to be able to apprentice himself to a magic master and learn the art. Meldir's parents were hoping that with his strong talents he would be able to combine them well enough to be considered for a position as a royal guard - one of the highest honours.

Harry, by this point very dazed and shocked by his friend's situation, didn't waste a second in promising him a place as a royal guard - that is, he added teasingly, he could get up to par. Before he left, he had one last idea, and asked Meldir if he wouldn't mind Harry tutoring him in magic basics.

Meldir had almost fainted from shock. Harry took this as a yes, and at least three hours after he arrived, he finally said his farewells.

He left Meldir's feeling more high strung than he had in coming, but for completely different reasons. Inside his mind stewed over what Meldir had told him, and the painful emotions it had brought up. He wandered up through the high vaulted corridors, past rushing elves, all frantically preparing for the next days events, where he eventually ran into a group of the royal guard searching the lower levels of the First Palace.

After that, Harry didn't have much time to think, because he was promptly hauled before their illustrious Majesties and dumped on a couch to explain himself.

So the first thing he said was, _"I can explain."_

The Queen stared at him with a hardened expression as the guards behind him respectfully retreated and shut the door, leaving poor Harry alone with two angry Monarchs and no shield.

_"Then you had best start explaining."_

Harry shuddered. His grandmother's voice was cold and hard - not an ounce of the usual warmth permeated it, something he hadn't noticed was there until it was missing...and now that it was, he wanted to hide under a rock and never come out.

He looked away from them both, staring at the floor instead.

_"Look at us when you speak, you are Crown Prince, you do not talk to floors,"_ said the harsh voice of his grandfather.

Harry winced and slowly raised his head again. He wished he _could_ talk to the floor though, because looking at the two pairs of angry, glowing green eyes made sweat break out. He thought he'd become used to the _Elwý_ and their looks, but apparently they were still alien enough to send shivers running down his spine - or maybe that was just his grandparents, he couldn't quite tell.

_"I-"_ he began, had to swallow to clear his dry throat, then continued, _"I needed some time to myself before tomorrow. Just to, uh, think and relax."_

_"So you _abandoned_ you duties for your own selfish needs."_

Harry sucked in a breath, hurt.

_"No!"_ He said sharply. _"I mean, I did leave, but it's not like it would have mattered much if I'd have stayed and kept practising! There's only so much you can practise before it becomes redundant."_

The Queen hissed - actually _hissed_, like a cat - and Harry shrank back in shock.

_"Do not speak to me in those tones."_

_"You keep practising because it is your duty to be your absolute best," _the King added sternly.

_"I'll be fine,"_ Harry mumbled. _"I promise. I've memorised the vows perfectly and I know exactly what I'm doing. We've been doing it for three days straight now…"_ he held up two fingers and pinched them together, _"and I'm _this_ close to having a break down, trust me. I needed some alone time."_

The Queen's features merely became pinched and the King's brow creased dangerously.

Harry groaned, wondering how he could get through to them. It was like they didn't even _care _about him at all - all they cared about was their precious _Prince_ and as long as he acted like a prince, they would treat him well...but the moment he stepped out of line…

He gulped in deep breaths of air, trying to prevent the prickling of tears that threatened at the corners of his eyes. It wasn't fair. Why could everyone else have loving families? Why was Harry stuck with a family that never seemed to care about him?

The King was saying something, so Harry tried to focus.

_"...your duty comes before all else - you live for the people, not for yourself. Do you understand?"_

The burning of tears increased.

_"Yes,"_ he half mumbled, half gasped. _"But...but what if all that stress had made me so nervous I messed up tomorrow?"_

There was silence and Harry stopped staring at the space between his grandparent's heads long enough to glance at their faces. Neither looked the least bit sympathetic.

_"It is your _duty_ as Prince to be able to deal with stress. I am _very _disappointed. You acted childishly and selfishly,"_ bit out his grandmother.

Harry stared at her incredulously for a few moments, tears suddenly forgotten.

_"I _am_ a child!"_ He cried, for once actually eager to admit it.

Usually the wizarding world treated him like nothing _but_ a child, dismissing his words and actions as the selfish delusions of a petulant child. And yet now it seemed he was in the opposite situation - the _Elwý_ expected him to suddenly be far more grown up than he actually was. Especially to the long-lived _Elwý_ he had barely even begun existing...and yet they expected him to act like he had centuries of wisdom beneath his belt?

He noticed his words had seemed to shock his grandparents and he added viciously, _"I'm _fifteen _years old. No, _sixteen_ now, forgot my birthday. What do you honestly _expect_?"_

The tears were back and they burned even more fiercely.

_"Sixteen,"_ repeated the Queen to herself.

Harry took a deep breath and clutched at the sofa fabric beneath his fingers. He really needed to get a hold of himself. It was ridiculous that he was having some sort of meltdown over this. He should just gracefully accept his grandparents words, then go back to his room to stew and throw a few pillows at the walls. Not sit here like a child and start crying.

It was pathetic.

He took another shuddered breath.

Finally his grandfather spoke. _"You may be only sixteen, but you should be trying harder."_

Harry choked back a hysterical laugh. _"Try harder? Try _harder?_ Do you even know how hard I've been trying? I've never tried so hard in my life before!"_ The tears actually started to fall now and Harry didn't bother to stop them. While he was at it, he might as well have a good scream too. _"All I've been trying to _do_ is try as hard as I can so you'll be pleased with me! But you barely even look at me sideways unless I do something _wrong_ and then you get mad!"_ He reached up and scrubbed his face, the wetness becoming annoying. He missed the slight flash of emotion that crossed his grandmother's face as he did so. _"A-and it's like you don't even care about me, so I wonder why I should even t-try because you'll never l-like me_..._and I still can't believe that...that I'm some sort of _prince_, it just doesn't seem real. I don't _want_ to be a prince...I just want a...a f-family, a-and…"_

Harry was pretty sure he was just sprouting nonsensical gibberish by this point. He had dropped his head a while ago and was blubbering at his hands. Which is why he never noticed his grandfather until the elf was sitting next to him and placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

Harry almost jumped, and his crying stopped abruptly for a few moments.

_"W-what?"_ He stuttered.

_"Araëmel…"_

Harry stiffened, sure he was going to be reprimanded now. After all, breaking down and crying like that was hardly suitable behaviour for a prince.

_"Maybe I'm not cut out for this,"_ he whispered. _"Maybe you should just disown me and have another heir instead. Send me back to the wizards - my friends like me at least."_

His grandfather's hand tightened on his shoulder.

_"Araëmel,"_ he said it more sternly this time, _"we _have_ been trying. It can take decades or even centuries for a conception. We are still not sure how you were conceived so young and so quickly. Perhaps some wizard magic, or pure coincidence-"_

Harry looked up in shock. His sight was a bit blurry and he blinked rapidly to clear it.

_"You mean Aunt Petunia is really, really _old_?"_

His grandfather frowned, _"You are referring to Taswafáne?"_

Harry nodded.

_"Yes, she is five centuries old. There was a three century gap between her and Indilaira." _

Harry's eyes widened. _"Oh."_

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head just in time to see the Queen sit on his other side. A warm breath of air brushed past his face and then seized it, pulling it gently towards her, until her own hands were caressing his cheeks. Harry held still in surprise.

_"You are our little miracle child,"_ she murmured, studying his face. _"When we found out you were alive, we rejoiced. We knew we could stop trying for an heir - Elwýn would be in safe hands."_

Harry stared at her, revelling in the touch of her fingers on his face, touching him like she actually cared. Then her words registered and he wanted to cry all over again. She had said it herself - she only cared because he was important as the Prince, no other reason.

He pulled away, turning his head. _"See? That's all you care about. You don't care about _me_."_

_"I just said-"_

_"No, you just said you cared that I could be there as an heir, not as a grandson."_

Harry tried to pull away further, even get up to leave, but his grandfather's hand tightened unbearably, and the air suddenly seemed like molasses. He couldn't have moved even had he wanted to.

The Queen seized his face again and turned it until he was gazing into her eerie eyes.

_"We do care,"_ she said harshly.

Then he could move again, the King's hand released his shoulder, and he was suddenly pulled against his grandmother, whose delicate hands reached around his back and hugged him for the first time.

He froze, unsure.

_"You are doing well. Your words have shamed me, but you must understand we do only what we think is best for this country. Being a ruler means sacrificing personal wants for the sake of your people. But this does not mean we do not love you. You are all we have left of our daughter. You are our hope. If we have been pushing you, it is because we know you have the potential to be great."_

This time, when the tears spilled over, they weren't because of anger or sadness.

A third hand joined the two on his back and rubbed small circles there soothingly. His grandfather's voice took over, _"Araëmel, abandon these insecurities you have. We forgive your childishness, for we see that you are still young, and you have centuries to learn what you need to, there is no need to rush. We have been overeager. You have been doing so well and have made us proud - and you will make your people proud tomorrow as well. You say you do not want to be Prince, but you have been chosen. You were born into this family and your blood and heritage is an important part of who you are. You were born to rule, just like All__à__whta was born to rule. You cannot change that. But you are strong; of mind, magic, and body. If what our researchers have uncovered is true, as Harry Potter you were already doing great things, so do not begin to doubt yourself now."_

Harry, who had been listening quietly, a welling of unfamiliar emotions building in his chest, almost pulled out of his grandmother's embrace in shock. Instead, he raised his head and slowly extracted himself, turning to look at his grandfather with wide-eyes.

_"You know about Harry Potter?"_

His grandfather smiled. _"Yes. We know some. That you are the humans' hero, and that they all look up to you."_

Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that they preferred to call him insane now and use him as a scapegoat.

_"And it is only natural. You were born for greatness, and even as a human, you shined above them all,"_ continued his grandmother.

Harry blushed, feeling a bit uncomfortable at all the praise. Surely they were going a bit overboard now. He was just Harry - just one person. He wasn't a god.

But he _was_ a prince.

_"I'm sorry,"_ he finally said to fill the silence. _"I promise I won't do something like that again...at least not without telling someone. I just...I was overwhelmed."_

_"Understandable, child,"_ murmured the Queen, stroking a cheek.

Harry leaned into the touch, heart swelling. They really _did_ care. He had a family now - grandparents who loved him. He had to try his best from now on and make them proud. And he had to go back and destroy Voldemort once and for all and fulfil his promises to the wizarding world at the same time.

_"Yeah,"_ he breathed in agreement. He was definitely overwhelmed.

But if he had family there to support him, he was sure he could do it regardless.

_"I'm going to do everything perfectly tomorrow, I promise,"_ he stated resolutely.

_"I am sure you will,"_ smiled the Queen.

_"Although your dancing leaves much to be desired, young one,"_ said the King.

Harry stared at him. Had the elf just made a joke?

_"It's not that bad,"_ he protested.

_"It is quite bad,"_ replied his grandfather.

Harry winced.

_"You have time to perfect it,"_ encouraged his grandmother.

That was the scary thing. He did have time - lots of it. He shuddered.

His thoughts began to stray, thinking over the past few minutes and what had just happened. It was strange to think that his grandparents weren't the horrible monsters that his Aunt Petunia had been making them out to be, but then again, they _had_ banished their first born daughter.

Harry bit his lip, wondering if it was safe to ask. His grandmother must have sensed the question hovering on the tip of his tongue, because she reached up and stroked back a few strands of hair and asked, _"What is it?"_

Harry stared at his hands as he spoke, not wanting to witness any anger that might develop over his question. _"Why did you banish Aunt Taswafáne? She really hates you, you know. And me too I guess. She hates anything magical."_

The Queen drew in a sharp breath and her hand retreated abruptly. The King sighed. Before they could answer, Harry quickly added, _"And I have a few memories of Mum and Dad. Mum didn't want to go back to Elwýn at all. She said...she said once that there would be no more crowns in our family. Why did they hate it here so much?"_

Harry had an idea of course. The way _Elwý _society was run left much to be desired - but he still couldn't understand why his parents had run. And his Aunt as well. If they'd stuck around, maybe they could have changed things and made it a better place to live. Maybe...maybe that way Voldemort would never have reached them. He could have grown up surrounded by family.

...And have never met his friends. Hermione and Ron, and Ginny and Neville and Luna. Remus and Sirius. He didn't think he could give them up. So maybe it was all for the best.

But that still didn't give him any answers.

_"We give you much leeway, young one,"_ said his grandfather almost fondly.

Harry turned to look at him warily, asking silently for an explanation. After that comment he was slightly afraid of opening his mouth again and maybe getting himself in trouble.

_"For the liberties you have taken with us, we would have punished Indilaira quite severely."_

Harry sucked in a breath. _W-what?_

_"Indeed,"_ murmured the Queen, _"and it is that which drove her away from us. We did not realise what we had lost until she was gone. We will not make the same mistake. We have learned from the past."_ She reached out and grasped Harry's chin again, looking him in the eye. _"I am Queen, but I am also a mother, and recently a grandmother. Before I did not realise the difference. I do now."_ Harry thought that maybe her eyes looked sad as she watched him. _"You wish to know why we banished the only daughter we have left? Because she wished it. She could never be heir and neither could any children of hers. If she is happier banished then it is the least we can do."_

And it made perfect sense. As Harry gazed into the eyes of his grandmother the Queen, he realised that no matter what she appeared to be on the outside, on the inside she was still very much human - or, rather, _Elwý_. The front she put up as a ruler buried her feelings so deeply she really appeared to be the cold-hearted Queen everyone thought she was. But the loss of her child had shattered that facade and now she gazed at Harry with actual emotion.

He turned to look at his grandfather. The elf's mouth was turned down slightly in a sad smile. Harry knew he felt the same way.

_"I'm sorry," _he whispered, feeling overwhelmed by the raw emotion the revelations had uncovered in him.

_"It is not your fault, Araëmel,"_ said the elf softly.

Harry looked between them both, at their sad, drawn eyes, and suddenly made a promise to himself - and them. _"I promise I won't leave you. No matter what. Mum may be gone, but you still have me."_

The Queen chuckled. _"Thank you, my young Prince."_

Harry felt a childish delight and love well up in him and he smiled shyly at them both.

_"You will have to forgive us if we do not show emotion well,"_ remarked the King.

Harry didn't need to be told, he already knew they were trying their best - and that he should too.

_"Don't worry. In return, I'll try to be better."_

_"Then perhaps you ought to return to your room and finish preparing for tomorrow?"_ Suggested his grandmother, though the tone of her voice implied it was more of an order.

So Harry nodded abruptly, reaching up to wipe any residue of tears from his face. He stood up and turned to face them, trying to look serious, but he only received a raised eyebrow from the King.

Harry merely straightened his rumpled clothes and intoned solemnly, _"Yes, your Majesty."_

The Queen smiled her cat-like smile.

* * *

**AN:** Well, it's a little late, I admit, but I got it done and edited! And I've written more than half of the next chapter as well. Yes, that's right, the ceremony/ball is up next! I'm having a lot of fun trying to think up vows and make it seem very official :P

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter because I really enjoyed writing it. I got to explore the relationship between Harry and his Grandparents as well as the reasons why Lily and Petunia left and why they were so estranged. And of course, I'm a sucker for soppy bonding scenes, so that's what you got. XD And then I simply couldn't resist adding in a bit of discovery for poor Eruahna and Meldir. How do you like the interaction there so far? Good? Meldir and Eruahna are fun to write. In any case, I hope answered a fair amount of questions with this chapter.

A thank you to everyone who reviewed...and a special thank you to those that wished me a happy birthday or asked after exams! I hope everyone else's exams went well (those of you that had them, which I'm guessing are the majority of readers) because I'm hoping mine did. I think I even managed to reply to a few reviews, though I'm not sure. It's hard when I'm so busy.

But for now I've got the summer ahead of me to write. Hopefully I can finish the next chapter soon-ish. I've hit a slight stumbling block and am trying to figure out how to play out this next scene, but once I've figured that out, it should be smooth sailing. :D Though, just a small warning, I will be VERY busy this summer, so don't expect really frequent updates. I will try to write as much as possible though.

For now, though, enjoy! And reivew please, tell me what you think so far? I'd be much obliged. XP

xoxRia


	11. Sovereign

_(updated and corrected as of 29/07/09)_

**Chapter 11:  
**

_Breathe,_ _Harry, breathe. _

Harry chanted to himself under his breath, counting the beats of his heart and trying to make sure he remained calm and unruffled. Because if _he_ could hear the loud, erratic thumping in his chest, then who else might?

"You'll do wonderfully," murmured Quenah in his ear.

The harsh sounds of English startled him for a moment and he could only stare dumbly for a few seconds until his mind processed the meaning of the words and he blinked.

"Quenah?"

Quenah quirked a mischievous grin. "This way no one can understand us. Well, except some of the guards."

"Oh," Harry breathed. He chanced a glance at the closed doors to the throne room and then all around him.

Guards line the large corridor; living, breathing statues. None of them moved an inch, their spears held at attention and eyes fixed firmly ahead of them. Further down the corridor, from where Harry had first emerged were silent masses of _Elwý_ unable to be in the throne room themselves for whatever reason. He thought that most of them might be servants or visitors to the palace, come to get a glimpse of the Prince.

Either way, the manner in which they all stared at him, eyes wide and adoring, was beginning to creep him out slightly. Just a bit. At least they were being quiet. He wasn't sure what he would do if they were all screaming his name like some perverse imitation of fan groupies at a Quidditch match.

"What if I trip?" He mumbled, yanking his mind back to the imminent situation at hand. He thought he heard one of the guards try to cover a laugh with a soft cough.

"You won't trip," Quenah informed him sternly. Then he took pity on Harry's wide-eyed expression of impending doom and added helpfully, "And if you feel like you might, simply use a little bit of-" he looked around surreptitiously and lowered his voice further "-_gwý_ to keep yourself upright." _Gwý_ was the elvish word used to describe the particles of air infused with magic which _Elwý _manipulated. Harry only looked surprised and thoughtful, Quenah smirked. "You never thought to do that? Most of us with the ability do it all the time."

"Which doesn't include you," Harry said dryly.

Quenah grinned. "Ah, I can influence an already existing breeze, if you must know. It stops my hair from getting in my eyes by always blowing it backwards."

Harry stared, shaking his head slowly in exasperation. Of _course_ Quenah would do that. Still, it was a very useful trick to know. He'd have to see if he could practice it.

"So do not worry, you will be fine. You will awe them all, my Prince."

And Harry's heart was back to racing. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Quenah placed a hand on his highly decorated shoulder, over some rather elaborate embroidery sewn into the stiff fabric of his outer robe-like jacket. "It's what I'm here for."

"Good thing too," Harry replied weakly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Quenah chuckled. "You'd have been just fine, I know it. You're strong, Araëmel."

Harry shook his head firmly. "No. You're different. You treat me like a person, always have, right from the beginning. I really needed that."

Quenah's hand dropped and he sighed, glancing at the doors as he spoke. "Understand that I never meant things to turn out this way. They just did. I suppose seeing you like you were, so young and," he chanced a quick glance at Harry and added almost wryly, "dare I say, _afraid_, I began to conform to the way you treated me. You wanted a friend, Araëmel, and I unconsciously gave that to you, but it was not my initial intention. We were only supposed to have a professional relationship."

By this point Harry was blushing quiet horribly, the tips of his ears a bright red. He could only hope it faded away before he had to walk down the throne room aisle.

"Besides," murmured Quenah in a very low voice, "it's hard to treat a human with the proper respect. It was much easier to act informally."

Well that explained a few things. He knew how much elves detested humans or looked down on them. By having the image of a human he had probably saved himself a lot of grief later on by encouraging Quenah's view of him as a person, rather than as the _Elwý_ Prince.

"Thanks," he replied wryly, but there was a hint of warmth in his tone, which Quenah easily picked up on. Harry was honestly thanking him for being his friend.

Just then the doors pulsed a soft, glittering gold and Harry knew it was almost time. Their conversation couldn't have ended at a better time.

"Well, this is it. Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Harry squared his shoulders and waited for the doors to swing open. And when the glow increased until it bathed him in a golden nimbus, they finally cracked open. That was his cue. He took one more deep breath, set his expression, and took a step forward.

And another.

He walked into the silent hall, head held high, eyes forward, steps carefully measured and paced. The moment he passed under the door arch hundreds of eyes turned to stare at him. He ignored them. He _had_ to ignore them.

Instead, he focused on what he had to do. He kept his mind clear and tried not to think about how everyone must be judging him - weighing his worth. Did he look the part? Were they all thinking what a horrible Prince he was?

Suddenly, Harry was glad for the ridiculously ornamental outfit he was wearing. The overcoat was stiff around the shoulders and weighed down slightly by the medals and crests decorating it. It glittered with gold and silver embroidery, studded in delicate patterns with small crystals and jewels. Before it had been slightly cumbersome, now it was like a security blanket.

The gold of his boots thudded against the deep green carpet leading up to the two thrones containing his grandparents. They gazed down at him, expressions unchanging, and he remembered he had to stare just below their faces, right at the point between them. His expression had to remain stoic as well.

For a brief moment, he wondered what would happen if he suddenly had to sneeze, but he quickly brushed the thought aside. He was going to do this _right_. He would make his grandparents _proud_.

It seemed to take forever to reach the dais, but reach it he did. Before him sat the two beautifully carved thrones, and in front of them to the left was a tall, thinly carved stand. On top of the stand, his soon to be crown glinted brightly in the mid-afternoon sun streaming in from the tall, arched windows.

It was breathtaking. With the sparkle of magic in the air, the light almost seemed to dance. Some of the windows were made from sheets of thin crystal and threw sparkling bursts of rainbow colour across the entire scene. Small rainbows collected and spanned across the arched ceiling, reflecting prettily off the collected gathering of finely dressed _Elwý._

Harry didn't hesitate. He'd practised so many times and with his natural grace he managed the move seamlessly. He stepped up onto the lower dais and dropped to one knee, clothes flowing out and settling around him just right. He bowed his head and froze in absolute stillness. No one else in the hall moved.

He felt more than saw his grandparents move - their movements echoed back to him through the air. They rose together, the King holding out a hand for his Queen, who took it delicately and stepped forward. The King was a single step behind. The one of royal blood had the true power and it would be the Queen who would perform most of the ceremony this day. Harry waited.

The soft whisper of fabrics lighter than air floated down to him. The Queen addressed him, and the entire hall, her voice echoing powerfully, enhanced by magic.

_"Who comes before us?"_

Harry responded, voice just as strong. _"I am Araëmel, son of Indilaira, of the House of Caladharan, born of the blood of He who founded this great nation."_

Silence.

_"Why have you come before us?"_

_"To beseech of His blood acknowledgment of my claim."_

The Queen shifted slightly and Harry anticipated what she would say next, muscles tensing ever so slightly.

_"Rise, he who would lay claim to Our Nation."_

He had practised this part so much he was certain he wouldn't falter. It was one of the harder bits. He had to rise smoothly, without a single stumble. But his body followed his command, snaking upwards fluidly. He let out a soft breath in relief.

_"What will you give to this Nation?"_ His grandmother demanded calmly. _"What do you Vow?"_

Harry took a deep, silent breath and turned around. This was the really hard part. He had to address the audience, staring across their heads without actually making any eye contact, as well as remember to look focused - all while trying to remember his vows.

_"To the People of Elwýn; I vow to be just. I will judge fairly and punish judiciously. I will rule with compassion, but with a firm hand. I vow that I will allow no harm to befall any and all who are Elwý. No threat will fester under my watch. Within these borders, all will live in peace. I vow to be strong. I will beat back any invasion. No foreign hand will touch these lands."_

Next he knelt once more, one hand pressed to the floor in a symbolic movement, all without breaking the flow of his speech.

_"To the Land of Elwýn; I vow that I will never let you wilt under my hand. The trees will remain strong and the soil fertile. Disease and famine will not touch you._"

He stood once more and turned around again, facing his grandparents. He focused on a point between them and spoke yet again.

_"To my Blood before me; I vow to hold sacred your teachings. I will carry on your rule, extend your legacy, and keep our Blood strong._

_This I vow."_

He bowed his head and waited. So far so good.

The Queen stepped forward. _"We have heard your vows, Son of our Blood and We have judged them fair. Step forward."_

Harry climbed the final step to the second dais and once again stood perfectly still.

_"Kneel."_

He knelt, feeling her move past him to the small stand. A soft rustle of fabric and she was back. He knew she held the crown, hovering just above her fingers.

_"As I place this Symbol of your vows upon your brow, remember that this binds your word. You are no longer Araëmel, a Son of the House of Caladharan, but Crown Prince."_

And then she was lowering the heavy gold band over his head. He barely heard her next words. As the cool metal touched his skin it felt as though she had placed the heaviest weight in the world on top of his brow - the shackles of responsibility. Responsibility for an entire nation.

Suddenly, his vows weren't just words. They held real meaning.

_"Rise, Crown Prince Araëmel. Greet your people."_

Harry rose, a lump in his throat. As he turned around to stare down at the silent rows of elves all watching him with bright, luminescent eyes, he felt a sensation rather hard to name sweep over him. As they all dropped to their knees before him, that sensation grew. The sight of hundreds of bowed heads almost made him dizzy. Combined with the telling weight on his brow and it struck him hard that he could no longer call himself 'just Harry'.

No. Now he was _Araëmel._ He was officially the Crown Prince. Every word of his vows echoed solemnly in his head.

_Just. Fair. Strong. Compassionate. Defender. Sovereign. _

He had to be all that and more. He was _responsible_ for an entire race of people.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it seemed permanently wedged there. This went so far beyond being a hero; being the Boy-Who-Lived. As Harry Potter he really only held an obligation to himself. He fought Voldemort because he could and because the man had destroyed his family and friends. But when all was said and done, he only had to defeat a single foe, not rule a nation.

But now he held sovereignty over every single down-turned head before him and beyond. Every eager face that had peered at him through the row of guards. They were all his responsibility now.

Harry - or was it Araëmel now? - felt sick. But he didn't move or even twitch a facial muscle to betray his inner turmoil. He couldn't. It would ruin everything.

First he had to wait until he was alone, then he could panic.

So, to distract himself, he let his eyes sweep over what accounted for the elvish version of nobility, trying to spot Meldir and his sister. There were so many heads, but he knew his friend would be somewhere in the back. His sharp eyes picked out the details of every single _Elwý_ in the hall, but he didn't find Meldir. He didn't have enough time to properly check each profile - the Queen was already moving on.

_"Rise."_

Everyone rose so smoothly, Harry would have thought they had rehearsed it had he not known better. Instead he was merely impressed. He kept his face stoic though. It wasn't time to show emotion yet. Rather, he had to now walk out the hall and back down the tunnel of guards to a small room where he would be joined some minutes later by his grandparents. Supposedly, it was to allow the rest of the crowd who had managed to make it to the palace the opportunity to catch a glimpse of him again.

Harry just thought it might be a subtle way of torturing him.

But he stepped down off the dais with measured steps like a dutiful grandson. He walked calmly and steadily back down the aisle and emerged past the arch of the doorway. Once he was through, he allowed his shoulders to relax slightly and his expression to lighten. After all, the 'common' people didn't care so much for pomp and ceremony - that was simply for the benefit of the Houses.

As soon as he emerged, Quenah fell in step just behind him and two guards peeled off from next to the doors and took up positions behind to his right and left. This time when he walked past all the gathered elves, they watched him with bright eyes and smiles and whispered to each other happily. He caught snatches of words and conversations all about him, but tried not to focus on them.

He wondered if Taswa was there, watching him. He glanced to his left and right, trying to not catch anyone's eye, but smiling slightly if he did. Then, suddenly, he saw her. She was standing near a wall, watching him from slightly further away. He caught her eye easily and her eyes widened.

But when he smiled at her, a real smile, he saw her shoulders relax and a wide grin break across her face. Her eyes flickered up to the crown on his head and she lifted a hand and tapped her own forehead, raising her eyebrows and grinning wider as if to say, 'Having fun?'

Harry quickly schooled himself not to laugh, as that would be unsightly. Instead he shot her a look as he passed by her wall. Taswa simply waved, flicking her fingers at him in amusement.

Well, at least he knew she had seemingly come to terms with his status. She obviously saw no harm in teasing him.

He felt a whole lot lighter as he walked the rest of the way to the room, and when he entered and found a chair to sit down in, he flopped down with a grin. The guards took up positions outside the door, though Quenah followed him inside and asked bemusedly, _"You seem far happier than you did going in."_

_"Well, it went well,"_ Harry enthused, troubles momentarily forgotten, _"and I saw my friend. She waved at me."_

Quenah chuckled. _"Well, that would explain it then. A pretty girl waved at you." _

He found himself blushing, because, when he thought about it, Taswa _was_ quite pretty.

_"So, my Prince, how do you feel?"_

Harry shot him a confused look. _"What do you mean?"_

_"You have been formally presented in front of the Houses. How do you feel?"_ Repeated Quenah patiently.

Oh. Harry glanced up at his friend and frowned. Quenah simply watched him with far more serious eyes than before.

_"I…"_ Harry began, then paused and sighed. He reached up and touched a finger to the crown resting on his head. _"It feels strange. Like…"_ He dropped his hand and used it to gesture vaguely in frustration. _"Like there's this weight of responsibility I hadn't felt before. Before it was like I was just playing the role, and now it's like I've become the role."_

Quenah tilted his head with a frown, pursing his lips and tapping his fingers against his thigh. _"Sometimes I do not quite follow your thought process Araëmel, but I think I vaguely understand."_ He looked over Harry appraisingly and explained, _"The ceremony cemented everything for you, yes?"_

Harry nodded. That was a better way of putting it.

Quenah smiled comfortingly at him and Harry grinned weakly back. Then, just because it felt so odd, he reached up and touched the crown again, tracing the fine pattern of the gold strands as they wove over and under the main bands. He caught Quenah watching him curiously and snatched his hand away, placing it into his lap.

_"You look regal,"_ Quenah offered with another glance at the crown. _"I must say it is a change, but it suits you. You pull it off very well."_ At Harry's dubious look, he chuckled. _"It is why you are Prince and no one else. You were born to this."_

That again. Harry had the distinct impression all the adults in his life were teaming up against him. No doubt they held tea parties as they discussed how they could best mess with his mind next.

He rolled his eyes and informed the older elf, _"My grandparents said the exact same thing."_

_"Then that makes it all the more true."_

Now Harry just shrugged uncomfortably.

Fortunately, before Quenah could end up getting into a debate over Harry's finer qualities, the door opened and the King and Queen stepped inside. The Queen raised a cool eyebrow when she saw Quenah, but otherwise said nothing beyond dismissing him with a sharp word and gesture. Harry's eyes trailed his friend as he bowed submissively and left the room. Then the door shut and he tore his eyes back to his grandparents.

_"You did well,"_ praised his grandmother.

Harry glowed with pleasure. _"Thanks,"_ he said shyly.

_"Your performance was strong. Perfect,"_ agreed the King.

Harry smiled happily. Good.

_"Come,"_ said the Queen, _"we will go to the banquet now."_

Harry's stomach chose that moment to rumble embarrassingly loudly.

***

Crown Prince Araëmel tried not to look wide-eyed and overwhelmed as he gazed down on the large crowd dancing across the ballroom floor below the dais. The _Elwý _were like glittering, ephemeral beings, flitting between each other on light feet, clothing whispering softly. He had a hard time keeping track of any one of them, they always seemed to transform before his very eyes. It didn't help that soft balls of luminescent magic lit up the high arches of the ballroom and reflected off the many crystal fixtures. Like the throne room, the entire chamber shimmered with rainbow colours.

The whole effect took his breath away.

_"Araëmel."_

Harry blinked the dazed look from his eyes and glanced down and next to him. The Queen was observing him with a mild expression. When she noticed she had his attention, she crooked a finger and beckoned him to lean down closer.

_"You cannot stand here the entire time,"_ she said, a tinge of amusement in her voice.

Harry glanced down at the mass of dancing elves and swallowed heavily. _"But I'm quite happy here."_

_"You must go down and mingle, let the people get to know you."_

_"But then I must dance,"_ he protested, looking at her pleadingly.

She was unsympathetic. She raised an eyebrow pointedly and he straightened with a small pout and accused, _"You get to stay here."_

_"I am Queen, I do whatever I wish."_

Harry opened his mouth to argue that he was the prince, so shouldn't he be able to do whatever he wanted as well? But she stopped him with a single look and he sighed.

_"Go ask someone to dance,"_ she ordered.

Harry swallowed thickly and grimaced. Easy for her to say, she could dance! He, on the other hand, would look like a troll compared to these people. Why couldn't he grasp the intricacies of the dances well enough? He'd had over a month already, and he still looked awful.

Then, he remembered what Quenah had advised about using _Gwý_ to augment his movements and help him keep his balance, and thought maybe he might be able to pull it off. The best thing about manipulating air, he decided, was that it wasn't visible to an elf's magical sight. No one would know.

Or, he thought, looking down again contemplatively, perhaps they all did it, and he had just been left out of the loop until now.

_"Go," _ordered his grandmother, breaking into his thoughts.

Harry smothered another sigh and gave a slight nod. Great, now he got to go and make a fool out of himself. He scanned the crowds as he stepped down from the dais which held the two thrones his grandparents were sitting on, but was too nervous and shy to approach any of the females he saw standing or sitting around the outskirts of the ballroom. He dearly wished Taswa could have been there, then he wouldn't feel so stupid asking her to dance.

He had a sudden thought. He _did_ know one person who he would be able to ask to dance. Never mind that she was both older and taller than him, Eruahna would probably agree to help him.

With that in mind, he set off around the perimeter of the dance floor, eyes scanning each face. No one met his eyes. Instead they all moved out of his way, bowing their heads or sinking slightly into mild curtsies, which was mildly disconcerting. He didn't even have to say 'excuse me' once, as a path opened up before him like the parting of the Red Sea.

He found Meldir and his sister lounging next to some tables set up with drinks and nibbles watching the dancing. He sped up his pace slightly, eyes following his path to the two. He stopped in front of them and cleared his throat lightly, catching both of their attentions.

_"Araëmel!"_ Exclaimed Meldir with a grin.

Harry's shoulders relaxed. _"Hey, Meldir."_

_"You were brilliant!"_ His friend enthused and Harry flushed slightly. _"I told you so, didn't I?"_

_"Yeah. Fine. It went well."_

Meldir's gaze flickered up and down his body, finally resting on the crown on his head. _"That's, uh, pretty cool."_

Harry had to force his hand to stay still and not reach up and touch it in such a public place.

_"Your Highness was very regal,"_ Eruahna spoke for the first time.

Harry turned to her with a small smile. _"Thanks, Eruahna. Actually, you're the reason I came over here." _At her wide-eyed, uncertain look, he explained in a whisper, _"Grandmother kicked me off the dais. Said I had to go mingle and dance, but-" _He looked around, noticing a lot of the elves not dancing were surreptitiously watching them and probably listening in, and lowered his voice even more, _"-I'm a _miserable_ dancer and I don't want to ask someone I don't know to dance, so…"_

By this point Eruahna's eyes were wide as saucers and Meldir was chortling softly to himself. He reached over and nudged his sister playfully, saying, _"Say yes! All the other girls will be so jealous of you!"_

Eruahna flushed a surprisingly deep shade of red and Harry shot Meldir a look. The boy just grinned knowingly.

Harry sighed, turning back to his friend's flustered sister. _"Will you though? It would really help me out. Please?"_

_"O-okay,"_ she stuttered, holding out one delicate hand.

Harry steeled his nerves one last time and carefully took her hand. Around him he could feel the stares and the whispers start up. Those same eyes bored into the back of his head as he lead Eruahna out into the flittering masses.

Well, here went nothing.

He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was dancing with someone other than his harsh teacher; maybe it was because he felt comfortable around Eruahna. Or maybe it was because he was using every ounce of his concentration to make his muscles move smoothly so he wouldn't embarrass her. Now it wasn't just him he would be embarrassing, but his partner as well. That, and using very careful applications of _Gwý _to make his clothes move just _so_, and to stop him from tripping or stumbling probably helped.

The dance was complex, they all were. The _Elwý_ had had millennia to perfect them, after all. It reminded him of the ballroom dancing Aunt Petunia had sometimes used to watch on the telly, except far more graceful than the humans could ever have managed. In an Elven dance, every single movement, right down to the way their hair and clothes moved was pre-planned to perfection. The result was like watching water dance. It was otherworldly.

Harry could never match up to it, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try. Besides, he was only sixteen years old, so they couldn't possibly expect him to be an expert.

After a minute of careful twists and turns and watching Eruahna's face as a smile tugged at her lips and she flowed smoothly through the air, he found they had somehow gravitated towards the centre of the dance floor, where a small bubble had cleared around them. While other elves continued to dance around them, most of them had stopped and were watching their prince dance his first dance.

When Harry realised what had happened, he almost faltered. Luckily, he managed to stop himself in time, but only by the skin of his teeth. He didn't dare turn his head to see just how many were staring at him though he could feel their gazes and it unnerved them.

Fortunately, he and Eruahna had entered the song half-way through and it was only a minute more of torture before the delicate musical notes died down. They stopped and Harry bowed slightly. Eruahna sunk into a deep curtsy and he took her hand again and lead her off the dance floor - exactly as he was supposed to.

Well, that went better than expected. He actually felt a little optimistic now.

_"Liar,"_ Meldir greeted them. _"You're not miserable."_

_"It went better than I expected,"_ Harry quickly defended. He grinned at Eruahna, _"I think it was because I had a really great partner."_

Eruahna just blushed furiously.

Meldir rolled his eyes, _"Stop flattering her, she'll become insufferable if you do."_

That seemed to snap her out of her daze, because she jerked her head around to glare at her little brother. _"If we weren't in public, I'd smack you!"_ She hissed in a low, threatening voice.

Harry laughed. Meldir and his sister never failed to amuse him with their antics. He thought wistfully of what it would be like to have a sibling of his own. Perhaps that was what Hermione was - his surrogate sister. She was always prepared to deflate his ego or smack him over the head for doing something foolhardy and dangerous.

He sighed, suddenly missing his friends terribly. He bet they would have loved to be here with him. Luna would have floated off onto the dance floor and happily made a spectacle of herself, Ron would have been awed by the opulence all around them, and Hermione would have been so excited to be in another realm, surrounded by an ancient people.

_"People are staring,"_ murmured Eruahna suddenly, eyes sweeping the crowd.

_"They're wondering why the prince is with us,"_ Meldir deduced, eyes also flicking about, taking in the many _Elwý_ trying to look like they weren't staring when they actually were.

_"Let them wonder,"_ Harry told them, trying to ignore the staring. He was getting pretty good at it too.

_"Ooh, Déluaë is looking over here, he looks _horrified_," _gasped out Meldir in absolute glee. His eyes glowed brightly in his excitement and he turned to Harry with a smirk. _"I bet he's really regretting what he did that one time when we met, remember?"_

Harry racked his memory, remembering how that day hadn't exactly been one of his best. He might have gone a little mental on Melcacrist's class. He had later learned that the students in that class were the entire population of young elves living in the palace who weren't servants. In one fell swoop he had managed to make an extremely bad impression on all but Meldir and Taswa.

_"Déluaë is the one you flipped out on, you know, when he insulted your mother," _Meldir prompted, much to his sister's utter horror.

Harry had vague recollections of Melcacrist sending some poor sod off to run laps while he tried to make a break for it.

_"What?"_ She hissed, eyes darting over Harry's shoulder at the elf called Déluaë. _"That is the son of the House of Caerlin, but even his status should not allow such an insult."_

_"He didn't know,"_ said Meldir with a shrug, eyes darting away. Harry still hadn't turned around to look, because that would have been too obvious. He had no idea what Déluaë even looked like. _"You should have seen Master Melcacrist's face though, he was _furious_."_

_"I'm not surprised,"_ murmured Eruahna, finally looking away as well. She sent a quick glance at Harry, to judge his expression.

He didn't know what to think. Should he still be mad? How could he when the elf hadn't known any better? It was no worse than the things Malfoy had always said to him - or Snape even. And his emotions had been running high that day, so he'd overreacted. It wasn't fair to condemn the boy for his actions in the past.

So Harry simply shrugged lightly and shook his head with a smile, saying, _"It doesn't matter now."_

Meldir frowned in disappointment. _"I suppose."_ At his sister's stern look, he added,_ "I guess it would only cause complications."_

Harry nodded absently, glanced around them again. A new song had started up and many of the elves were dancing. Over their whirling heads, he could see his grandparents observing it all loftily from their perch. As if he knew Harry was watching them, King Thalyón caught his grandson's eye and calmly nodded at him. Harry fitted a small smile on his face and bobbed his head in a semblance of a bow but before he could turn back to his friends, his grandfather lifted a single finger and crooked it in a 'come here' gesture.

Harry faltered, shooting the older elf a confused look. The King was adamant though, and not moments later Harry felt a gentle push of air at his back. To be able to control _Gwý_ so far from his body was a feat and Harry found himself impressed in spite himself. He wondered if he'd be able to do that one day - though he hadn't exactly thought to try it yet.

_"Mel, Eruahna, sorry, my grandfather wants to see me,"_ Harry quickly interrupted their hushed argument.

_"Oh,"_ breathed Eruahna, shooting a startled look at the King and Queen.

_"Okay,"_ Meldir simply agreed.

Harry bobbed his head in a faint good bye. _"I'll be back." _

He peeled away from his two friends, and made his way up to the thrones from the opposite direction he'd left them. As such, he walked right past Déluaë and several other youngish elves all standing and conversing. He gave them a glance as he passed by and noticed none would meet his eyes. They stopped talking as soon as he got close enough to potentially hear anything they might say. He brushed past them, trying to keep his expression clear, but still finding himself turning his head to watch them out of the corner of his eye.

The small squeak alerted him that he wasn't watching where he was going and had he still been confined to human reflexes he would have ploughed right into the poor girl, but instead he drew to a graceful halt and whipped his head back around, an apology already on his lips.

_"My apologies, I wasn't looking where I was going,"_ he said quickly, managing not to stutter and remembering to use the proper formalities.

Two, large, bright green eyes blinked at him from a face framed by wisps of white blonde hair. Harry found himself momentarily stunned by her beautiful features before he recovered himself and managed a small, sheepish smile. But she simply stared at him, so he edged around her and continued on his way. It was getting a bit annoying constantly having to deal with the same sort of stupefied reactions from every _Elwý_ he ran across.

Sighing, he traversed the last distance to the thrones with little difficulty as there seemed to always be a perpetual bubble around the dais. He stepped up quickly and did a quick bow of greeting.

_"Araëmel,"_ murmured the King in return.

_"You called?" _Harry asked curiously, glancing to his grandmother as well, but she didn't seem to be paying them much attention. She was focused instead on observing the dancing with glittering eyes.

_"Yes, I saw you talking quite familiarly with those two Elwý of the Lower Houses. Who are they?"_

Harry shrugged, shoulders tensing slightly, wary that his grandfather was going to get angry over Meldir and Eruahna, though he really didn't see _why_ it should matter. _"They're friends of mine. Meldirlion and Eruahna of the House of Noiar. Meldir takes lessons with Master Melcacrist." _

The older elf's face expressed no emotion, but nevertheless his tone brooked no argument when he stated with certainty, _"They are not appropriate companions."_

Harry felt mutinous. _"They're perfectly nice people and I like them a lot."_

_"Nice,"_ repeated the King.

Harry made sure to stare at his grandfather with a hard expression as he managed to get out through a clenched jaw, _"They're my _friends. _I trust them."_

Two green eyes narrowed at him, the slitted pupils contracting slightly. _"Trust?"_

Harry raised his head. _"Yes, _trust_. It's good to have people you can trust."_

_"That is what advisors are for,"_ replied the King in clipped tones.

Harry couldn't help but stare. Advisors? Did his grandparents have _no_ friends? None at all? How did they live?

_"That's different. You don't tell your advisors about your feelings, do you? Friends are different,"_ he repeated firmly, sending a quick glance towards the wall where he knew Meldir and Eruahna were standing. He didn't see them but then his vision was impaired by whirling dancers in the few seconds he took to scan the crowd. Or they could have moved.

_"Friends,"_ said the King as if the word was foreign to him - which, Harry contemplated, it probably was.

_"What is the argument?"_ His grandmother suddenly butted in, leaning an elbow delicately on the arm of her chair and peering at them sternly. _"We do not argue in public, Araëmel."_

Harry swallowed. _"Sorry."_

_"Araëmel is associating and making friends with those far below his station,"_ said his grandfather crisply.

The Queen raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. _"I see."_ She glanced out at the ball below them and seemed to come to a decision. _"We will discuss this later. It would not do to be seen having differences in public. In the meantime," _she added with a soft sweep of her arm, _"I want to see you interacting with more than a few people. Go."_

Harry suppressed a grimace, shoulders sagging. He didn't want to go 'mingle' with people he didn't know, especially if said people were going to be too busy gaping at him to do much more than stutter or babble formalities.

Instead, he said, _"Yes, your Majesty."_ And stepped back down from the dais.

Then he had no idea where to go. Should he just walk up to someone and butt in on their conversation? Ask a girl to dance? He remembered large green eyes and blonde hair and thought he wouldn't mind dancing with that pretty girl he'd bumped into earlier.

Maybe he could go terrorise Déluaë and his companions. Except like Meldir had commented, it would probably only cause more problems and create enemies.

So what to do? He supposed he could always go stand in a corner like an idiot and wait and see who approached him first. Of course, the only downside to this plan was if no one decided to approach him he'd end up looking quite stupid.

Harry found himself wandering around the edge of the dance floor while he pondered what to do, fortunately not running into anyone this time seeing as most elves had the presence of mind to move far out of his path. He veered towards the small tables holding drinks where servants stood like wraiths in their white and beige colours, ready to serve at a moments notice. He had a vague thought of getting a drink until he'd managed to decide whether or not he wanted to make a fool out of himself by asking some random stranger to dance.

He got a crystal goblet of sweet water, steering clear of the strange purple liquid that he had a feeling was the elvish equivalent of wine and then stood contemplating it. Someone else approached and he stepped to the side to make room, glancing up curiously. A brush of blonde hair and he realised it was the girl from earlier.

_"Hello again,"_ he blurted out before he could think it through.

The girl, holding her own goblet now, turned, startled and stared at him again with wide eyes. Harry waited for her to say something but she only gazed at him unblinkingly and rather unnervingly. To cover his sudden nervousness, he took a sip from his goblet and looked to the left.

_"Hello,"_ came the uncertain voice suddenly, and he jerked his head back.

She was looking at him properly this time though her eyes kept flitting up to his crown and back again.

_"I'd introduce myself, but I think you know who I am,"_ said Harry wryly and he saw a spark of amusement flash across her features as her lips quirked slightly.

_"Vanna o'Elassë, your highness," _she murmured, dipping as deep a curtsy as she dared with a drink in one hand.

Harry took the chance to really look at her. She was really quite gorgeous. She had a sort of soft beauty, with slightly rounded features and large eyes under delicately arched eyebrows. It was rare to see an _Elwý_ with such soft features, as most tended to look rather cat-like. With her wispy blonde hair forming a halo around her head she looked rather more like a veela than an elf.

More importantly though, he was pretty sure he didn't recognise her at all. He was sure he would have remembered seeing her in Melcacrist's class purely because she didn't look she belonged anywhere near a sword, let alone actually getting dirty and sweaty fighting with an opponent.

_"I don't believe I've seen you before,"_ he said slowly, still trying to place her face. _"I thought all those living in the palace attended Master Melcacrist's lessons?"_

Surprisingly her lips quirked in a sort of wry smile and she sniffed. _"I chose to follow the path of the Healer. The only one of my generation. Your Highness,"_ she added almost as an afterthought.

Harry decided he liked her already.

_"Healer? Really?"_ He asked curiously, vaguely knowing what she was talking about. _"That sounds difficult."_

Silently he wondered what had possessed him to say something so inane as 'that sounds difficult'.

_"Difficult?"_ She replied with a mild frown. _"No, not really. It is simply very hard work, but it is rewarding work. No more difficult than the path of the warrior, I would imagine, your Highness."_

Harry shot her a crooked grin. _"Sometimes I ask stupid questions."_

Her eyes widened in shock at his words before they suddenly narrowed and she tilted her head to the side to observe him. _"You don't act like you should. Not at all."_

Harry allowed a quick glance at his grandparents to check that they weren't watching him too closely before he leaned forward a little (for once he was taller than someone and it pleased him greatly to be able to lean _down_) and whispered, _"My goal in life is to upset as many stuck-up, posh aristocrats as I possibly can."_

Just as he had anticipated, she gaped at him for a few moments before she caught the joking tone in his voice and suddenly laughed. Goal achieved at getting her to relax, Harry rocked back on his heels and flashed her smile before taking a rather inelegant gulp from his goblet.

_"Consider me upset,"_ she giggled.

Harry kept grinning. _"Yes, I can tell. Very upset." _He shot another glance at his grandparents and just barely caught his grandmother's eye. Making a split second decision, he set down his goblet and held out his hand. _"Would you like to dance?"_ He asked.

Vanna accepted, eyes wide, barely remembering to dump her own goblet on some poor servant, before Harry tugged her into the fray.

_"You'll have to forgive me if I'm not the best of dancers,"_ he said as they merged with the rest of the crowd.

She looked at him with amusement, but said nothing, choosing instead to concentrate on the steps of the dance. Harry took note of this and decided it was a wiser course of action and promptly did the same.

This time not so much attention was drawn to the fact that the prince was dancing, seeing as he'd already done it once. However, a sizeable gap still managed to form around them as they were shuffled to the centre and Harry would have sighed if he could have managed to tear his attention away from the dance long enough to do so. Instead, he simply tried to keep his expression neutral instead of looking like he was having a particularly bad bowel problem - which is what people often looked like when they were concentrating too hard.

Harry enjoyed the dance as much as one could enjoy such things. He was far more relaxed than his previous dance, his partner was beautiful, and he was _taller_ than she was, which was a huge ego-booster. He hadn't realised just quite how put out he'd been being one of the shortest _Elwý_ around. Even Taswa was taller than he was.

The music ended and Harry lead his partner off the dance floor.

_"Thank you for the dance, your Highness,"_ she said as soon as he let go of her hand, performing a far deeper curtsy than she had before.

Harry shifted in embarrassment. _"Eh, uh, no problem?"_ Realising that if his etiquette teacher had been there to hear him she probably would have dropped dead from a heart attack, he quickly added, _"I mean, you're welcome. I hope I wasn't too terrible."_

She glanced up at him and he saw her hesitate before speaking. Her teasing was almost too indecisive to even be called such, but she still managed, _"Oh, adequate."_

Harry smiled to put her at ease. _"Oh good. Elegance is not my strong suit."_

_"I thought your Highness was quite elegant this afternoon."_

He couldn't help but flush a deep red at her words, the tips of his ears betraying him, reminded that he had performed his vows not a scant few hours earlier in front of everyone at the ball.

_"Vanna?"_

They both turned to regard the tall, blonde-haired, green-eyed elf who stood a respectable distance away in the same pale yellows as Vanna. The strong family resemblance was explained a few seconds after when Vanna exclaimed, _"Daddy!"_

Vanna's father glanced at Harry with open curiosity, eyes flicking up to his crown before he quickly gave a deep bow. _"Your Highness."_

_"Lord of Elassë_,_ I presume?"_ Replied Harry.

Lord Elassë gave a slow nod, eyes darting between his daughter and her companion.

_"I hope you do not mind my asking your daughter to dance,"_ Harry said quickly, worried the elf was about to drag Vanna away.

Of course, he kept forgetting that it was highly unlikely anyone would be upset that they were being paid attention to by the royal family. Lord Elassë hurried to assure him.

_"Oh no, your highness, please. I am glad my lowly daughter was able to entertain you so."_

Harry found himself raising an eyebrow at the address. Lowly daughter? He glanced at Vanna and couldn't find a single thing that would be considered 'low' about her.

_"It is an honour that your highness has deigned to speak to a member of such a low House."_

Well, Harry thought, that would explain it. It seemed he gravitated towards the very people he wasn't supposed to be making friends with. _"I rather think I prefer to associate with the lower Houses,"_ he remarked dryly, much to both Vanna and her father's shock. _"You are all much better company."_

Vanna choked out, _"You were being perfectly serious when you said your goal was to upset as many aristocrats as possible, weren't you?"_

Harry smirked. _"Maybe."_

_"You'd get away with it too."_

_"Yup."_

She looked at him flatly, then rolled her eyes - a feat for an elf whose irises extended almost entirely to the corners of each eye.

Vanna's father wasn't quite so amused. _"Vanna," _he said with an edge of warning in his tone. _"Language."_

_"My apologies, your highness," _Vanna said promptly.

Harry sighed and glanced between the two. _"Please don't bother with ceremony and formalities. I prefer to speak candidly."_ His etiquette teacher would have been proud of that one.

_"Then I'll be candid and say you're a terrible dancer,"_ said Vanna suddenly and quite boldly, eyes calculating and waiting for him to go back on his word.

Harry blinked, startled at the challenge, but managed to crack a smile anyway, despite Lord Elassë's horrified spluttering. _"I did tell you, didn't I?"_

She regarded him with wide eyes, startled that he hadn't reprimanded her.

_"I apologise for my daughter,"_ cut in Lord Elassë faintly, reaching out to grab Vanna by the arm quite harshly. _"I often despair of her tongue. She is too sharp with it. A thousand apologies, your highness. I will punish her for her words."_

Harry watched on with mild alarm as she was dragged away. _"Wait," _he called weakly, but it was a bit too late. Vanna twisted her head right before they were swallowed by the crowd and shot him a reassuring smile. Harry smiled back weakly before he was left standing there, not sure what to do next.

Turning around, he thought it might be a good idea to go find Meldir again and get him to tell him about the House of Elassë and Vanna herself. Maybe his friend would be able to shed a little more light on the situation. And maybe he might be able to prevent whatever horrible punishment Vanna had managed to afflict upon herself.

Because he was quite certain he'd managed to make a new friend and he was rather protective of his friends.

* * *

**AN: **Yeah, that's right, I UPDATED. **Le gasp.** But, like I said, I had the chapter mostly written and it was just a matter of getting over one mild bit of writers block on a section near the end and then BAM, it was done and all I had to do was edit it. XD

So here we finally are, the "coronation" scene (though not really a coronation exactly...haha) plus ball (in which Harry makes a sort-of-fool of himself). Hope you liked! We've got a bit more interaction with the Grandparents, some explanations from Quenah about _why _he treats Harry the way he does, and some cute scenes with Meldir and Eruahna and..._gasp_...what's this? A new person? Yup. May I present Vanna. Oh, and just a bit of Taswa...but don't worry, she'll show up some more :D

So? How'd I do? Did it meet your expectations? I'm curious. It's how I pictured it in my head so..._shrugs_. I actually got distracted after writing this and went and started painting the ballroom dancing scene in Photoshop...but gave up because it was tooooo complicated. Maybe in like, a decade I might finish it...Erm. Yeah.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! If you asked a question, I tried to answer it. If I missed someone, please let me know and be sure to repeat your question or direct me to the review with said question (i.e. what chapter) and I'll try and get back to you. Otherwise, I read all the rest and grinned like a loony the whole time. **Coughs.**

Anyway, going on vacation for a bit, so no writing time, and we've got two guests over (my friend from school and an exchange student) so I'll be playing chauffeur for the next month or so. I'll try and squeeze in some writing time, and I'll probably have another chapter up in July, but definitely look forward to August!

Review...please? **Puppy dog eyes.**

**xoxRia  
**


	12. Altercations

**Chapter 12:  
**

Harry choked on his tea (tea, it seemed, was universal) and gasped as the hot liquid burnt his throat. He coughed and spluttered, flapping a hand rather uselessly over his mouth.

_"W-what?"_ He managed to get out through it all.

The Queen placed her own cup of tea down very delicately and said sternly, _"I will not respond to such a crude exclamation. Furthermore, you are not a human, stop acting like one."_

Harry had by now figured out that calling an elf a 'human' was like calling a human an ape. He quickly stopped waving his hand. _"What do you mean _betrothed_?" _He demanded.

_"Exactly what it implies. We should begin selecting appropriate matches,"_ she responded calmly, observing the top of her tea as it rippled gently, an invisible breeze cooling it.

Harry felt sick. _"Betrothed, like marriage betrothed?"_

_"Yes."_

_"B-but…"_ he spluttered, _"I'm only sixteen!"_

She stared at him cooly. _"Yes, I am well aware of that. Cease that ungainly stuttering. You will not be immediately betrothed, but we should begin narrowing down candidates. It could take some time."_

Harry relaxed only marginally. _"Time?"_

_"You must spend an adequate amount of time with each candidate to properly be able to consider how suitable she will be. Several years for each, I should think."_

_"Several _years!_" _He repeated, gaping.

His grandmother looked at him sharply. _"You are not a fish, close your mouth. And stop repeating me."_

Harry's jaw clicked shut but he still managed to look rather bug eyed as he stared at her with a disbelieving gaze.

She continued on as if she hadn't just reprimanded him. _"If we start with those closest to your age, then we can work our way through all suitable females over the next century until we've narrowed it down to a good twenty or so. In your second century you can pick the most appropriate match and then spend one or two more centuries making sure she is perfect. She will be Queen thus she will need to be the best of the best, is that clear? She will need to undergo training. You can be married after your first millennia." _

Harry felt like he was having a particularly odd dream, because surely he hadn't just heard the words 'century' and 'millennia' thrown around so casually like that. Hearing his grandmother speak about his near immortality in such a flippant way really drove home that fact that he was going to live for _thousands_ of years. His sixteen years of life was barely a drop in the ocean. His grandmother was talking about spending one hundred years alone just sorting through prospective brides.

Speaking of brides - Harry swallowed thickly and managed, _"What about love?"_

The Queen froze for the barest of moments. _"Love?" _She mussed. _"Love is important. To spend so much time in the company of another you must at least like them. Love will come - if not, a fond companionship. Do not worry yourself with such things now."_

Harry chewed his lip for a moment, thinking, until a stern glance from his grandmother had him stopping. He hesitated to bring up his thoughts, but he needed to know. _"What if I fall in love with someone who...who isn't the best?"_

_"That will not happen,"_ she said sharply, almost commandingly. _"You will not associate with those who would not be worthy, therefore it will not present a problem." _She paused for a sip of tea. _"Which brings me to my next point; those lower House Elwý you have been associating with are hardly appropriate companions."_

_"They still have a House!" _Harry protested.

_"Their blood is too new."_

_"Grandmother…"_ The Queen looked at him sharply. He almost never called her 'grandmother', it was too informal. Harry continued softly, _"They're important to me. They're honest and good people and they're my _friends_. I won't stop associating with them. If you allow me anything, allow me to pick my friends." _At her darkening expression, Harry knew he was fighting a losing battle. _"Isn't it important to have people you can trust with _anything_?"_

He balled his hands into fists and waited. If she still refused, he was going to have to threaten to abdicate, despite how he had promised to be the best prince they could have hoped for. But if he just kept rolling over and submitting to everything they demanded of him, despite that they had the power to make his life miserable, he feared that he might never see his human friends again. He needed to start standing up for himself at some point, or they would never let him return to the human realm.

He only hoped Aunt Petunia had come up with a good plan if all else failed.

Besides, Harry Potter rolled over for no one. So maybe he was being the perfect grandson at the moment - but that was for the sake of _family_. It still send a happy shiver down his spine thinking about it. But if it went too far and his grandmother tried to control _everything_, then he'd have to start digging his heels in and refuse.

_"You would defy me?"_ She ended up inquiring, a note of steel in her tone.

Harry raised his chin and looked her straight in the eye. _"I wouldn't be a very good ruler if I caved in to every demand made of me, would I? I'm used to making my own decisions and paying for my own mistakes. I've never had to answer to anyone before." _He took a deep breath and continued, digging himself in deeper but refusing to back down. _"You're the Queen and my grandmother and I respect you a lot and love you. I would do anything for you, but…I won't let you dictate everything about me. I need to make some of my own decisions and who I befriend is one of those."_

_"What you have said could be considered treason. Our power is absolute. If I told you to marry the daughter of House Caerlin tomorrow, you would do it,"_ The Queen hissed, eyes glowing dangerously.

Harry refused to roll over and play dead. _"Maybe. And then I would hate you for the rest of my life."_ He watched with a wince as she sucked in a deep breath, the words hitting close to home. _"Or maybe I would leave and abdicate."_

_"You would break your promise?"_ She snapped, now quite furious if the tendrils of hair snaking around her head was any indication.

Harry braced himself just in case she released her anger on him fully. _"Yes! I only keep my promises to those that _deserve_ to have promises kept."_

It was a low blow, he realised and she realised it too. The air seemed to still and grow heavy with repressed emotion. A sharp wind rattled the glassware and caught the curtains, tugging them into a whirlwind of flailing fabric.

_"I should have you collared for your impertinence!" _She practically spat at him, fingers clenching into white-knuckled fists. A crystal goblet knocked over and shattered. Harry screwed up his eyes and held his breath, waiting for her to strike.

She didn't.

Abruptly, the wind stopped and he snapped his eyes open, watching her warily.

_"You will make a good King,"_ she told him softly, head tilted slightly to take in his rigid posture.

_"What…"_ He began.

_"Hush. You were right. I despise those who question me - I am not used to it. But you are right. You say you have made your own decisions up until now? Tell me about it. I wish to know everything you have done, and then I will decide what I will do."_

Harry opened and closed his mouth, uncertain at the turn of events. What had just happened? Seconds ago she had been raging at him and now she was agreeing with him?

_"I…"_

_"Tell me."_

He knew exactly where to begin. He needed to convince her he was going to be a good leader and then maybe she would stop being so stubborn. _"Last year the Ministry sent a woman to take over the school from the inside, repressing the students and undermining the power of the Headmaster and teachers. We rebelled against her, forming a group to meet in secret. We called it the Defence Association, or D.A. for short. I was the leader." _He smiled almost sadly. _"One of my good friends once told me I made a very good leader - that I was able to inspire loyalty easily. Then not a few months ago they went with me into battle and almost died. That was out of choice. I didn't ask them to come, but they did anyway. We got away, but barely."_

His grandmother's skin seemed to pale, any colour draining from her face as she picked up a new goblet and poured a fresh cup of tea. A swift flick of a finger and steam rose from the top. She sipped it shakily.

_"Battle? The humans are at war? You were put in danger?" _She demanded uncertainly.

Harry realised perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to tell her about the Ministry battle - she might never let him go back.

_"It was my fault,"_ he hurried to assure her. _"I left the safety of the school and broke into the Ministry. I shouldn't have done it and instead I ended up in trouble and battling my way out. It was a battle of my own making."_

_Whoops, _he thought, _that just undermines everything I just told her._ Now she would think he was a _bad_ decision-maker.

Indeed, it did not seem to mollify her much, but her hands stopped shaking and she pressed her lips together grimly, expression pinched. _"I see."_

_"The world is a dangerous place, no matter where you are or what you are doing,"_ Harry tried again. _"And danger seems to follow me everywhere. Even if you locked me in a padded room, I doubt I would be able to last long before _something_ happened."_ He gave a sheepish shrug. _"It's just my bad luck."_

_"I dislike this 'bad luck' of yours," _said his grandmother sourly. _"This is not good news. You are being put in danger in this human world. You will _not_ go back."_

_"No!" _Harry all but yelled, shooting up in his seat, hands reaching for the armrests and clutching them like a lifeline. _"_NO._"_ He repeated, voice cracking.

The Queen froze at the voracity of his response and she jerked back slightly. _"No? This is non-negotiable. Your safety is paramount, this is not to be taken lightly."_

_"You can't," _whispered Harry hoarsely, horrified at the thought of never returning. _"You _can't_." _

And she wouldn't. He'd make sure of it.

His grandmother's eyes flashed eerily and she slammed the goblet down on the table, liquid sloshing from the top. _"I will not see another die! You _will_ be safe. I will not allow you out of my sight until you are five hundred if I have to, but so help me you will not come to harm."_

Harry flinched back, shocked at the unprecedented display of emotion from a woman he had long come to understand as having almost perfect control. And now, in under a week he'd managed to reduce her to uncontrolled emotional displays more than once.

It touched him that he had someone who cared about him so much - someone that was _family_ - but he had others out there who cared just as much who he couldn't abandon. The Weasleys, Hermione, Neville, Luna…

No. He had to return. He had a duty and he had an adopted family he couldn't leave behind.

_"You can't keep me here,"_ he half-pleaded, half-ordered.

But his grandmother's expression merely tightened and she all but snarled a denial.

Harry fled. It was probably only the shock of someone walking out on her that allowed him to do it as well, or he might have been seized by her magic before he could have taken more than a few steps towards the door. Instead, he slammed the door on her scream of, _"Araëmel!"_ and made for the stairs, thinking furiously.

They both needed to calm down. Arguing with her right now wouldn't make any difference. He needed a plan of action - some way to convince her to let him return to Hogwarts. But who to talk to?

Suddenly he desperately wished Hermione was there with him - she always knew what could be done. But he wasn't Hermione and there was no one who could replace her. All he had was Quenah, who would never dream of putting Harry in harms way, Meldir and Taswa who would probably die before disobeying the Queen and-

That was it, he realised sadly. Three friends. One who wasn't even his age - more like a favourite uncle.

So where to go? What could he do?

He stomped down through the levels of the palace, ignoring the way everyone stopped and bowed their heads at his passing. The day after his crowning, every single elf he had run into in the palace bowed or curtsied to him, stopping whatever they were doing to lower their eyes and duck their heads. He had felt uncomfortable leaving a trail of silence in his wake. He was no longer anonymous - everyone knew his face now. But after nearly a week of it, he had long resigned himself to his uncomfortable new position and easily ignored it.

He continued further down, passing through the first two palaces into the first one, like he usually did when he wanted to get away. As he walked he mulled over his situation - tried to think of an excuse he could use. Or even a way he could blackmail his grandparents into letting him go back. If worse came to worse he might even have to run away - but that was a last resort only.

He discarded the prophecy almost immediately. He got the feeling that they wouldn't give a damn whether or not the wizarding world went to hell because he wasn't there to defeat Voldemort. Neither would they like the idea of him facing a powerful, evil wizard out for his blood on his own.

They held no sympathy for humans at all, this he knew with certainty. But any and all arguments he could come up with all relied on the compassion of the one being convinced. He couldn't beg them for his friends' lives nor the lives of the wizarding world. He couldn't beseech them on behalf of his own promises and obligations. There was nothing left.

He was trapped.

Maybe he _would_ have to run away.

He wandered down to the stables, feeling hollow. He passed horses in their stalls, watching as they poked their heads out to regard him with knowing eyes. He had always sworn that elvish horses were smarter than horses in the human realm - then again, he was only going off of muggle horses. Who knew, maybe magical horses were more intelligent.

He stopped by the horse he always rode. A black stallion. It always made him smile in wry amusement. What was more predictable than the Prince riding a black stallion? Perhaps a white one instead. Still, he was at least grateful for the fact that even if he didn't necessarily look the part of dashing prince - his horse always did. Because unfortunately for Harry, most of said princes had a far better grasp of riding than he did and probably didn't get bucked off quite so much. He was only glad he was able to flip in the air and land on his feet nearly every time, or he'd be a lot more wary of riding the beast.

_"Hey, you,"_ he murmured, stroking the horse's velvety nose. It snorted softly and bumped his hand. _"Oh _now_ you're nice to me."_

He stood there petting it for a few minutes more, thinking of nothing except the feel of the soft hair and warm nose under his fingers and the smell of sweet hay and light sweat.

In his daze the faint sounds of wood crashing on wood and metal ringing on metal reached his ears. They twitched slightly, straining further to pick up more sounds coming from the practice courtyard. No doubt Meldir and Taswa were out there right now with Melcacrist, beating on one another with practice swords.

He wondered if he should join them. He wouldn't be able to speak to them much, but maybe he could work out some of his frustration and despair through a good work out and the opportunity to 'kill' someone.

Whoever said violence was not the answer was clearly on something.

He moved past the horses after one last pat good bye, heading for practice room where they kept spare practice swords and sparring clothes. It wouldn't do to ruin his nice outfit with rips and tears.

He found a jerkin in his size and a delightfully smelly and worn dirty cream tunic. He kept his pants and boots and picked up a wooden practice sword, hoping Melcacrist would indulge him this time around as well. The last time he'd interrupted a lesson things hadn't gone quite so well.

He emerged into the sunlight, blinking, body turning to follow the sounds of swordplay even while his pupils contracted to bare slits to take in the sudden influx of light. He came across the group of students hanging off the fenced in fighting square, jeering and shouting at Taswa and an opponent whose name he didn't know. He caught a fair amount of the insults and realised that they were insulting her parentage and her unprivileged background. It sparked a tinge of anger in him that he had to squash back down - after all, they were doing it on Master Melcacrist's orders.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel that some of them sounded a little _too_ gleeful as they shouted insults. Like they were enjoying it a bit too much.

But nothing fazed Taswa. He watched, impressed, as she systematically took apart her opponent until the other girl was sprawled on the ground, panting, her sword five feet away in the dust. The jeering died down and there was silence except for Taswa and the girl's harsh breathing.

_"Good!"_ Bellowed Melcacrist, peeling off from the fence and prowling close to the two. Harry took the opportunity to search for Meldir, finally spotting his friend near the other end of the crowd, in the back, hands hooked into his waistband.

He passed by a few of his peers, heading for his friend, and suddenly every head was turned and staring at him.

Melcacrist was speaking, _"If you were paying attention like you were supposed to be, you'll have noticed what Iyara did wrong. Who can tell me? Pay attention! What the blazes are you all staring at?"_ The class parted until Harry, standing like a deer caught in the headlights, had a clear view of Melcacrist's angry face. _"Ah, interrupting my class yet again, your Highness?" _The elf asked sarcastically, but not cruelly.

Harry shrugged, holding up the practice sword in his right hand sheepishly.

Master Melcacrist grunted. _"Well then, since everyone seems not to be able to take their eyes off of you, you can be my next victim. Get in here."_

_Perfect,_ Harry thought, striding through the parted students and hopping the chest-high fence with graceful ease.

_"You!" _Barked Melcacrist, pointing at Iyara sitting on the ground, _"Get running, and don't stop until the next match is over!"_

Iyara leapt to her feet, suddenly miraculously recovered (Harry well knew that Melcacrist was damn good motivation for nearly any kind of exhaustion), and sprinted for the fence, leaping over it in one fell swoop and jogging off, occasionally peering over her shoulder. Harry swivelled his head back around and regarded Taswa. His friend barely looked winded.

He swallowed.

_"You'll be sparring Taswa," _Said Melcacrist unnecessarily.

Harry cracked a morbid grin. _"Don't beat me up too badly, okay?"_

Taswa looked momentarily startled and then her eyes narrowed and a small grin split her face. That is, until Melcacrist chuckled darkly and suddenly the whole class tensed up. When Melcacrist was happy, that generally meant someone was about to get hurt - or worse.

_"I've changed my mind. Araëmel, you do not have enough practice to take on Taswa right now-" _Harry's shoulders began to relax until they caught Melcacrist's next words, _"however I've been told you're a magical genius, a complete natural. Let's even the playing field. I allow you to use Gwý in any way you can during the fight and see if it manages to boost your fighting skills enough to take on my best. Got it?"_

Harry exchanged wide-eyed glances with his friend. _"Yes, sir."_

Use _Gwý_? How? Harry racked his brains and then it came to him. He'd had lessons on the theory of this already - powerful elf warriors, the elite of the elite (and Meldir's dream job) used the application of air manipulation to boost their movements and become almost superhuman during a fight. They could leap metres into the air and almost fly (supposedly) as well as use it to knock out their opponent. The air became an extension of self and they utilised it like an extra limb.

In other words, Harry was going to have to hope his control was good enough, or he was going to be soundly thrashed.

However, what Melcacrist had said wasn't far from the truth. After so much exposure to magic in life-or-death situations, Harry had developed a keen instinct and was a quick learner. It hadn't taken him long to realise how to control his mostly instinctive manipulation of air currents.

_Elwý_, it seemed, always exuded magic. It was the reason why they always looked like their skin was glittering and shining, because the magic was always present. The more magic one had, the more they exuded and the brighter they glowed (although the difference was so minute only one with elf eyes could ever tell the difference). As Harry had discovered, this was why they could manipulate the air. Their magic attached itself to the air's very particles and it became an extension of self. All one had to do was control their will and the air could be commanded.

Of course, if one wanted to influence the air further away, they had to extend their magic and that's when things became more difficult. But it hadn't taken Harry long to catch on. He'd managed to cast a Patronus powerful enough to banish one hundred Dementors when he was thirteen, so a little thing like exuding excess magic was hardly an obstacle.

So with that in mind, he faced Taswa fully, squared his shoulders, hefted his sword...and then closed his eyes. For a few moments he blocked out everything around him, feeling his magic instead and coaxing more and more power from the deep well within him. He sometimes wondered if his magic was limitless, as it never ceased to come, flowing like an endless stream.

To elven eyes he began to truly glow as his magic saturated his skin and the air around him. With his eyes still closed, he focused on the outside again, taking in the feeling of multiple presences to his right, and the one in front of him. The air caressed his skin and hers and he felt it when they both moved.

He never even heard Melcacrist murmur, _"Begin,"_ only felt it when Taswa suddenly sprung. He didn't even have to open his eyes, he felt her move and twisted to the side, bringing up his sword to parry hers. He opened his eyes at the last minute to make last second alterations to the slant of the wooden blade, and then he braced himself for impact.

The blow jarred his shoulder and they leapt away from each other, Harry more gracefully than ever as the air steadied his landing. Taswa eyed him with surprise and not a small amount of awe. Then her expression hardened and she came at him again.

They fell into a rhythm. Taswa would attack and Harry would feel her move and block. If she attempted something he didn't think he could catch, he would simply dodge out of the way and wait for her to try again. She grew frustrated, and if the muttering to the sidelines was any indication, so too was the rest of the class.

She attacked with sudden vigour and despite everything he was hard pressed to stop her. His magic flared and wind rose up around him in a swirl, rebuffing her violently. She flipped, natural elvish grace lending her cat reflexes, and landed in a partial crouch, hand still clenched tightly around her sword.

Harry realised then that had he not had his magic, he would have ended up on the floor nursing a violent bruise. He would have to do something, and quick, before she came up with a way to sneak past his defences.

He wouldn't be able to overpower her with his current sword fighting skills (non-existent) which meant he would have to use his magic. Quickly, before she could recover enough to leap at him again, he brought round his left hand and and _twisted_ it. Wind swirled violently, whipping around his hair and clothes and only an air-enforced grip on his sword prevented him from losing it. Sometimes he didn't know his own magical strength.

Taswa gave a cry as she was pushed back and abandoned any attack plan in favour of shielding her eyes from the abrasive sand that was swirling up in mini-tornados between them. Then, he watched in slight apprehension as they grew and grew and _grew_.

Somehow he doubted Taswa was going to find an opening now. But at the same time he could do nothing with his own sword. There was a violent barrier between them.

The wind trying to rip his hair off and shred his clothes was getting annoying, so Harry, content in the knowledge that for the moment he was safe, turned his attention inwards. Trying to concentrate on more than one thing was difficult, but he managed to push the wind back and his clothes settled down. He was now in the eye of the storm, protected, while everyone else was busy trying to shield themselves. Harry thought he glimpsed a magical barrier spread across one of the fences, keeping the winds contained on one side.

None of this helped Taswa.

Finding it unhelpful, he finally released control over the winds and the tornados died down, sand settled back on the ground and filling in the deep gouges the twisters had created in the dirt. Taswa straightened from her crouch and eyed him warily. Harry braced himself and bent his knees, ready to spring away if she attacked.

Or, he suddenly thought, he could just bat her away with a gust of air. It was sort of cheating, but Melcacrist _had_ said he could do anything he was able to do - and Harry was nothing if not inventive and very _very_ good at improvising.

Some would call it impulsive - Harry liked to call it instinct.

Taswa circled him slowly, feet stepping carefully and eyes narrowed. She faked a lunge, but Harry reacted instinctively, cutting upward with his sword, the winds he'd readied around it lashing out and knocking her away. She rolled and sprung to her feet, panting.

Harry lunged, taking his first offensive step, and tried to disarm her to end the match. His attempts were too clumsy though and she almost disarmed him. He leapt back and pushed her away with a wall of wind. The manipulation, now that he was used to using it in a battle situation, was becoming easier and easier. He always had been such a quick learner under pressure.

He wondered what else he could do. Part of his mind cast back to those superhero cartoons Dudley had liked to watch when he was younger, wondering if any of them had had the ability to control wind - or maybe if he could replicate any of their abilities using his own. He had to abandon his thoughts when Taswa took another swipe at him. She was fast - too fast - and he pushed off the ground, directing a burst of strong air pressure under his feet and almost panicking when it sent him shooting through the air faster than he had anticipated. But he was in control - all he had to do was direst his landing.

_"Stay put!"_ Yelled Taswa, red-faced and clearly very irritated.

Harry straightened from his crouch and smirked. _"And let you disarm me? I think not."_

The muscles in Taswa's face twitched and she swiped at the air in a huff, running at him. Harry, anticipating a head-on attack, was taken completely off-guard when she twisted her body in a move that he would have thought impossible had she been human and brought her sword up from below. Her wooden blade caught his guard and not even an enforced grip could keep hold on it. His sword went flying, landing with a thump in the dust behind Taswa where he couldn't get to it.

Taswa brought her sword around again, aiming for his throat, a move that, if she managed to touch skin, would end the match. He ducked, rolled and sprang back up several feet away. Fortunately, Taswa hadn't pressed her advantage, choosing to instead level her sword at him and ask, _"Do you yield?"_

Harry's lips twisted slightly, _"No."_

_"No?"_ She repeated incredulously.

_"No,"_ he repeated calmly, already concentrating on the sword behind her. It rose from the ground unsteadily until he managed a much firmer grip on it. Taswa didn't seem aware - she was still busy trying to figure out why he wasn't yielding.

_"You have no weapon. I have disarmed you, you cannot possibly win now,"_ she argued, taking an aggressive step forward.

Harry tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed in concentration. He was trying to keep the finger and muscle movements to a minimum so she wouldn't connect the dots, but it was so hard without a physical focus to direct his magic. He was doing it merely through mental willpower.

So he had to distract her some other way, at best unsettle her. What could he do - or say? - that would have her faltering?

_"See,"_ he said when he had the sword in position, _"that's the funny thing. My enemies _always_ underestimate me when they think I'm down, and that's usually when I strike and take them out."_ He paused and added, thinking of Quirrel and the diary spirit of Tom Riddle, _"Usually they die screaming."_

The information was enough to make Taswa falter for a few moments as her eyes widened, and he struck. His arm came up and around, holding an invisible sword and the sword in the air behind her mimicked his movements. It bore down on her with frightening speed, no long limited to how fast Harry himself could move.

Perhaps it was the speed, or maybe the shock of what he just said, but she couldn't respond fast enough. He knew she would manage to defend herself, but he thought he might have been able to disarm her anyway. Instead, he had put too much force into the blow and there was a sickening _crunch_ and her fingers went slack, sword tumbling from limp fingers.

Harry froze in shock for a moment, staring at the odd position of her wrist, and then all his concentration broke and his own sword dropped to lie next to hers in the dirt. He darted forward in concern as she turned around, a pained look on her face. When their eyes met a strange expression passed over her face and Harry halted, suddenly unsure.

Melcacrist took that time to stride forward, the barrier separating the students from the fight winking out of existence.

_"Let me see,"_ he demanded immediately, reaching for Taswa's wrist. She held it out, obedient and silent, and his hand hovered above it gently. _"Hm, it's broken. You will need to go see a healer."_

_"I'll take her,"_ Harry blurted out quickly, feeling increasingly awful at what he had done.

Melcacrist rounded on him with an unreadable expression. He stared at Harry for a good moment before finally uttering, _"You won this match. Very good."_

_"I hurt Taswa,"_ he snapped angrily.

Melcacrist raised a brow, single ear moving back and up with it. _"Accidents happen. There is always chance of injury when learning how to fight. It is a simple break, she will be fixed easily."_

_"I'll go with her,"_ he reiterated stubbornly, eyes daring the older elf to try and stop him.

_"Very well,"_ said Melcacrist.

Harry sidled up to Taswa and bit his lip, hovering next to her uncertainly. Clutching just above her broken wrist with her other hand, she brushed past Harry, expression set, mouth pinched in pain but still not uttering a thing.

_"Araëmel."_ Melcacrist's voice stopped him from following for a second and he turned uncertainly. _"You've killed?"_

Harry froze, eyes widening, and he realised that everyone had heard him speak when he had been trying to catch Taswa off guard. He swallowed. _"I..."_

Did Quirrel really count? Hadn't that been Voldemort's fault? Or was it really him who had killed the man? What about the teenaged Tom Riddle? It was just a diary...right? And when they had battled the death eaters in the Department of Mysteries, had they all gotten away or had any of them been inadvertently killed?

He ducked his head, fringe shading his eyes.

_"I see,"_ said Melcacrist slowly, as if the elf could read his thoughts. _"Well you will have to learn to moderate your blows. This is practice, not life or death."_

Harry flushed slightly, realising what his teacher said was true. _"Yes, sir."_

_"Go now,"_ murmured Melcacrist, still looking at him oddly.

Harry, glad to escape, quickly hurried after Taswa. As he hopped over the fence, the other students quickly scurried away from him, wary expressions plastered across their faces. He ignored them and quickened his pace, catching up with his friend as she reached the entrance to the stables.

Taswa paused briefly, darting a glance at him, before stepped inside.

_"I'm not angry at you,"_ she said suddenly once he had followed her inside, causing Harry to look at her in surprise. _"I'm angry at myself for being caught off guard like that. I should have remembered what you are capable of and not taken you so lightly."_ Her voice darkened with real anger. _"I was such a fool, now Master Melcacrist will not look on me so favourably. All he will see is overconfidence and incompetence."_

_"But I had an advantage over you,"_ Harry muttered, worrying at his lip guiltily.

_"But I am the better fighter. If I ever hope to be a great warrior, then I will have to learn to compensate for my disadvantages. I failed at that spectacularly today."_

Harry hesitated and then said, _"Not to brag or anything, but I _do_ have a higher than average magical ability. I think I shocked even Master Melcacrist, because he was looking at me funny."_ He paused and scratched at an ear sheepishly as she slanted a look at him. _"I even startled myself at some points. I didn't know I could do half those things!"_

Taswa stopped walking and he quickly stopped before he could bump into her. She turned and stared at him. _"You mean you did all that for the _first time_?"_

Harry shrugged and nodded.

_"How is that possible? I have seen those techniques from watching the Royal Guards train, and I had never expected you to be able to use them. I admit I was taken off guard. But I had assumed they had trained you."_

Harry looked at her strangely, though inside he was reeling. Those were the techniques of the Royal Guard? He'd just come up with them on the fly! _"How could they? I've only been here a scant two months. I've barely even begun to learn anything, especially fighting. It was all instinct and improvisation."_

Taswa shook her head slowly, eyes wide but mouth smiling. _"I don't believe you. You are so powerful. It is no wonder you are our Prince. I think you will be the greatest King since Caladharan himself."_

Harry felt himself go red. Fortunately, Taswa didn't comment, simply began to walk again.

Greatest King since Caladharan himself? That was a hefty compliment. He tried to bat down the blush even as his mind reeled from all the new information he'd just learnt. Of course he had to be special here as well. He couldn't even just be any old Crown Prince, he had to go and be a ridiculously _powerful_ Crown Prince.

Harry let out a small, ironic laugh. Of course. It figured.

He only hoped there wasn't a new prophecy involved, because wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake?

* * *

**AN: **Well, It's been a while hasn't it? Unforunately, I had nearly NO time at all to get any writing done when we had our two guests over. So, three weeks of no writing or drawing and I was going stir-crazy. Although, all the trips into S.F. and places like Las Vegas and L.A. were definitely keeping me on my toes! Anyway, I've got a month now to hang out with friends, keep writing this story (and others), get a few commissions done for friend's b'days, and ready myself for Japan. I leave August 31st. Meep!

Thank you all for the amazing response to my last chapter! The reviews were great. I kind of wish a few of you had left signed reviews so I could respond to the questions/issues you brought up more in depth. Instead, I'll just respond to them now breifly:

**1) **Foremost on my mind is Harry's characterisation. This is really important to me so I really appreciate those that comment on it. I'd like to explain my reasoning for the way he's acting, although I do hope that those of you who thought he was backing down too much are relieved that he hasn't completely lost his backbone. To be honest, I'd been sort of building up to him regaining himself after everything he's just been put through. If you notice, he begins acting far more complacent after his 'skin' is removed and this was my way of showing how he was dealing with everything in addition to a family. Of course, like a few of you pointed out, there are some inconsistancies in his thinking. And I definitely got a little _too _carried away with his 'in shock' personality to the point where I lost sight of his true personality. I can only hope that I can begin to correct that, but also keep in mind that he's not going to remain completely the same, because experiences change people. Hopefully, though, I can manage to make it a bit more believable, and please don't hesitate to tell me where I'm going wrong. This may be my 'cliched fic for my own enjoyment', but that doesn't mean I shouldn't still aim to keep my writing sharp and my characterisation decent. :D

**2) **For those wondering if Voldemort and Dumbledore (and the wizarding world in general) have disappeared off the face of the planet, don't worry, I'm working them into the plot, and rest assured, Harry _will_ go back to Hogwarts. As for Voldemort, it's not going to be as easy as simply sending a whole legion of elves after him to rip him to pieces. I just...haven't quite worked out which bits of HBP and DH I'm going to work into my already _very _AU plot and which bits I'm going to leave out...but I'm getting there, never fear. And all our favourite characters _will _show up soon.

**3) **So a few people are wondering about Harry's future love interest. This isn't going to be a fic dominated by romance, not even as a subplot, but I'm definitely considering adding just a little in there. It won't play a major part in the plot at all though, sorry to those that wanted that...

**4) **Um, also, just to make it clear, er, no, I'm not updating at the same time as **Bloody Skies**. Haha. Definitely coincidence there! Kinda cool though. I love it when authors update at the same time. So...maybe this means we'll see an update for Bloody Skies soon? I hope so. XD

**5) **One person asked about Petunia and where she went and what she's doing. First, I would advise you re-read chapter two, especially the end, and then re-read a few of the conversations between Harry and his Grandparents about Petunia's banishment. But, just to make it perfectly clear, Petunia is not sitting around in _Elwyn_ twiddling her thumbs, she was returned back to Number 4 Privet Drive as soon as she left Harry's presence and has since been living her life in the human realm while subsequently trying to figure out a way to snatch Harry back from his 'evil' grandparent's claws. Again, don't forget the conversation about the King and Queen's past actions concerning the treatment of their children and their determination to change things with Harry and be better parental (or in this case, grand-parental) figures. Sorry if I haven't made things perfectly clear. I do tend to be ambiguous when explaining things, as I prefer to have people work things out on their own, but I like to think I drop enough clues and explain enough things for the picture to become clear.

**6) **Which brings me to my last point. If there is anything that people aren't clear on and wish to ask about, please don't hesitate. I _will _reply to you, whether to your review, PM, or at the end of a chapter. Hopefully I answered everyone's questions this time around and didn't miss anyone.

Sorry for the long-ass author's note. Heh. But I think clearing things up for people is important so the story isn't confusing. I _could _go back and re-word sections and add things to the story, but I doubt everyone wants to go back and re-read the whole thing, so I figure a long AN is a good compromise. :]

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and hope there was nothing confusing. Please let me know what you think though! The response last time was amazing, so I'm really hoping this time will be the same. ^^

xoxRia


	13. Making a Stand

**Chapter 13:  
**

_"Hello?" _Called Taswa into the rather empty looking room. The infirmary was huge, reminding him an awful lot of Hogwart's Hospital Wing except on a much grander scale and very, very white. Harry poked his head around the large, crystal-embedded, wood door and observed the silence with a frown.

_"Is there no one here?"_ He asked curiously.

_"It seems so, I wonder where all the Healers are," _mused Taswa.

They walked inside, bypassing several nice looking beds and still finding no one. Harry paused momentarily to look out one arched window and observed the distant looking trees far below the hillside the current part of the palace they were in was perched atop. The infirmary wasn't far from the fighting grounds, just through a few corridors. He could only imagine that this was so because of the frequency of injuries in fighters.

_"Does everyone come here when they get hurt?"_ He wondered, thinking of Hogwarts once again.

_"Goodness, no!"_ Exclaimed Taswa, reappearing from behind a filmy curtain and looking at him like he'd grown a second head. _"Could you imagine the members of the Houses in such a common room as this? This is purely for army and common use. If a House member is injured the Healer goes to _them_."_

_"Oh,"_ said Harry, looking around again. He was suddenly quite glad, because as nice as it seemed here, it was still an infirmary and he'd had enough of them to last a life-time and beyond.

_"Anyone here?"_ Called Taswa loudly, voice echoing off the high, arched ceiling.

_"That depends on what you need me for,"_ a voice echoed back - a disturbingly familiar voice.

Both Harry and Taswa whirled around, neither quite sure how the slight blonde elf had managed to sneak up on them both without making a sound that their sensitive ears could pick up.

_"Vanna!"_ Exclaimed Harry, half in surprise, but also quite pleased to see her again.

Next to him, Taswa seemed to pale and swallow as she muttered, _"Vanna o'Elassë."_

Vanna tilted her head to the side and observed the other female elf and the way she was holding her broken wrist. _"Ah, broken wrist. I see." _Then she turned towards Harry and smiled. _"Your Highness."_

Harry smiled back, grateful to see a familiar face once again. _"Hi. How have you been?" _He bit his lip and ventured to ask hesitantly, _"You didn't get into too much trouble from last time, did you?"_

Vanna shook her head, smile still in place, _"Nope." _She winked suddenly. _"I have a way of talking my way out of trouble."_

_"And talking your way _into_ trouble as well,"_ Taswa said snappily, voice almost scathing.

Harry blinked at his friend in surprise, wondering why there was such animosity between the two girls. Actually, for that matter, why had Meldir and Eruahna clammed up and refused to talk about Vanna beyond a few stilted words when he had asked them about her last week at the ball?

He turned back to stare at the seemingly innocent girl and wondered what her big secret was.

_"Shall I heal that wrist for you?"_ Vanna seemed to either not hear Taswa's comment or she chose to ignore it, because she fairly danced over to one of the delicate wooden beds and patted the covers invitingly.

Taswa took a few steps back, wary. _"Where are the other healers? I think I'd rather they did it."_

Harry glanced between the two, feeling like he was missing something very crucial.

_"Oh, they're all with the Lady Neiýgóla. She had a false alarm earlier."_

Now he was sure he was _really_ missing something, because Taswa gasped and all the tension suddenly seemed to flow out of her posture as her expression lit up.

_"Truly?"_ She exclaimed joyously.

Vanna nodded her head with a smile. _"Yes, shouldn't be long now."_

_"Um,"_ Harry ventured to interrupt. _"What exactly are you talking about?"_

Two sets of eyes stared at him like he'd grown another head.

_"What?"_

Vanna rolled her eyes. _"Of course you wouldn't know, would you?" _Harry was momentarily offended until she continued. _"The Lady Neiýgóla is expecting. She's been carrying for close to two years now and we've all been anticipating the birth of her son."_

Taswa took a moment to shoot Vanna a rather venomous glare before explaining more thoroughly to a still confused Harry - after all, if it was a false alarm, why did _every_ healer have to be there? Not to mention he was still reeling from the fact that elves apparently carried their pregnancy far beyond three terms. Two _years_?

_"Because the birth of children is such a rare event, it is celebrated by the whole nation and looked upon with deep joy - at least when the child belongs to one of the Houses."_

_"But,"_ he muttered, brow furrowing, _"it can't be that rare if there's so many of you my age."_

Both Taswa and Vanna exchanged glances.

_"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" _Vanna asked, tacking on as an afterthought a soft,_ "Your Highness."_

_"Uh, sixteen,"_ replied Harry, not sure where they were going with this.

Vanna seemed surprised, her large eyes widening until they were quite round and rather unnerving. It was Taswa who looked the most shocked thought, because she exclaimed, _"Truly?"_

Harry shot her a confused look.

_"Your Highness is very young,"_ observed Vanna, seeming rather pleased by this information.

_"I knew you were young,"_ Taswa muttered, _"I mean, it's easy enough to see, but I had thought you were a bit older than a mere _sixteen_."_

Harry decided not to add that he'd only recently turned sixteen. _Very_ recently.

_"I am fifteen," _Vanna offered helpfully. Harry smiled at her.

_"Precisely why I do not want you healing me,"_ sniffed Taswa.

_"How old are you then?"_ Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

Taswa pursed her lips. _"Twenty five."_

Harry gaped. Vanna seemed unfazed.

_"Twenty five?"_ He repeated dumbly. He stared at her hard, wondering if she looked twenty five.

He supposed she did look a tiny bit older than both he and Vanna did, although he didn't have a very good comparison, seeing as a twenty five year old human definitely did _not_ look as young as Taswa. But it was still unthinkable.

_"And Meldir?"_ He wondered, suddenly not so sure he wanted to know. He'd always imagined his friend as being the same age, maybe a year older at worse.

He braced himself for her to utter the words 'twenty five' again, but instead she murmured, _"Nineteen."_

Well, that wasn't as bad as twenty five.

_"The rest of the class ranges from the ages of fourteen to thirty," _Taswa added after a moment of taking in his dumbfounded expression. _"I thought you could tell?"_

Harry shook his head mutely. _"No. Humans look way older at ages like twenty five and thirty."_

Vanna laughed somewhat unkindly. _"Humans? They are short-lived beings aren't they? I imagine they do age quite differently. Imagine, only living to a hundred years old!"_

Harry felt a shiver go through him thinking about the ugly conclusion those words drew in his head. In one hundred years, everyone he knew would be dead. Well, he amended, not everyone. Wizards and witches tended to live much longer life-spans than muggles did. Dumbledore, he knew, was most likely older than one-hundred.

_"At what age is a human considered an adult?" _Vanna asked him curiously.

Harry had to think about that for a moment. _"Well, for wizards, it's seventeen, but for muggles it's usually eighteen. It depends on the country though."_

Taswa and Vanna exchanged puzzled and slightly shocked glances. Taswa asked disbelievingly, _"I would be an adult?"_

Harry nodded.

_"And you would be one year from being an adult?"_

He shrugged a shoulder. No more stupid misuse of magic letters from the ministry in a year's time. That was something to look forward to.

_"It's absurd,"_ Taswa declared. _"It is too young. You even _look_ too young, how can they take you seriously?"_

He took offence to that. He didn't look _that_ young. _"Hey!"_

Taswa grinned wickedly and reached over with her good hand and pinched one of Harry's cheeks much to his shock. _"Little Araëmel still has all his baby fat,"_ She cooed.

Harry quickly slapped her hand away and scowled, patting his sore cheek. _"Ow."_

But he wondered whether she was being serious or exaggerating. He hadn't thought he'd changed that much, so surely he didn't look _that_ young? He was sixteen - nearly matured. He stared at Taswa and frowned, wondering what made her supposedly look older than him. Her face was slightly slimmer, but he had thought that was just her bone structure, not a lack of 'baby fat'.

Did that mean he was going to get thinner? His cheeks more prominent and chin sharper? He thought he looked fine the way he was, thank you very much.

_"Perhaps I should heal that wrist now,"_ Vanna commented calmly, disrupting Harry's inner turmoil and making Taswa wince. Pained eyes travelled back down to the limp wrist and she sighed heavily.

_"Fine, but botch it up and I'll tell the healers."_

Vanna stared at her unblinkingly. _"A terrifying threat."_ Her voice was bland and Harry got the feeling she was being incredibly sarcastic.

Taswa glared deeply. Vanna ignored her and bent over her wrist, pursing her lips, a small crease at her brow. Harry leaned forward, eager to see what she did - he'd never seen healing magic before.

He honestly wasn't sure what Vanna did. There were some complicated hand gestures involved, but he only saw the glowing glyphs that sparkled in the air above Taswa's wrist for mere moments, before Vanna completed a loop around the broken bone and they sunk into her skin with a soft glow. The sick squelch of bones sliding back into place and the soft crunch made him wince and glance away momentarily. Taswa grimaced and when Harry looked back she was flexing her wrist with a frown.

_"It's good," _she said, sounding rather sceptical still, but reluctantly impressed.

_"Of course it is,"_ replied Vanna matter-of-factly.

_"That's it?"_ Asked Harry, still wondering what exactly had happened.

Vanna raised an eyebrow at him and explained mildly, _"Most of the healing is through mental concentration - the runes simply focus my will. That was a complex healing, whoever did this did a number on her wrist - the bones were nearly shattered."_

Harry blushed in shame, and shrugged guiltily, _"Hey, I know nothing about healing. I'm a fighter."_

_"And uncouth."_

Taswa gasped. _"So rude! Apologise to his Highness immediately!"_

Vanna blinked and glanced at Harry with a slight widening of her eyes. _"Oh, I forgot. I apologise."_

Harry got the feeling she wasn't truly very sorry at all, but he forgave her. She'd hardly mortally offended him - she seemed to be doing the most damage to Taswa anyway. _"That's all right."_

_"I often forget myself,"_ she explained with a small apologetic smile.

Harry grinned at her. _"I know what you mean. I do that too."_

Taswa looked between them both, an expression of disgust on her face. _"You should not encourage her childish and rude behaviour, my Prince."_

Harry flashed his grin at Taswa instead and rolled his eyes. _"You need to relax, Taswa. It's not like anyone here really cares if we're using proper language." _At the tightening of Taswa's mouth, he added dryly, _"Except you."_

_"It's not right!"_ Exclaimed Taswa passionately.

Harry found himself exchanging suffering looks with Vanna.

_"Yeah, yeah," _he pacified her.

Taswa's ears twitched in annoyance and she huffed. She went to cross her arms but stopped, her wrist hovering in front of her chest. She flexed it back and forth and sighed. _"I should be getting back to class. Araëmel-aryón, are you coming?"_

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the open doors leading back out to the palace and barracks and then back at Vanna. He shook his head. _"No. I'll stay here and keep Vanna company until the other healers come back."_

Taswa stared at him penetratingly for a moment, eyes flickering over to Vanna and back to him before she nodded shortly. _"Very well, I'll let Master Melcacrist know."_

_"Thanks,"_ replied Harry.

Giving another curt nod, Taswa pivoted softly on her heel and swiftly made her way out of the infirmary. Two sets of eyes watched her go and when the echo of footsteps finally faded Vanna sighed heavily and commented, _"She does not like me."_

Harry glanced at her and frowned. He wanted to reassure her that it wasn't so, but he knew just as well as she that for some inexplicable reason Taswa did _not_ like Vanna.

_"I like you,"_ he ended up saying, only to belatedly realise just how badly out of context that statement could be taken.

Vanna smiled at him and her face seemed to light up. With her wisps of blonde hair and soft face, she was beautiful to him. Harry's throat went dry.

_"Thank you, Araëmel-aryón. Not many have said that to me."_

_"I d-don't see why,"_ he stuttered slightly, swallowing twice.

Vanna pursed her lips and scowled slightly, _"They are intimidated by me, I think. My talent in healing is extremely rare and very powerful. And I am told I have an abrasive personality." _She said the last part with a dry voice.

_"It's not abrasive,"_ Harry rushed to assure - and also without some mild confusion, for he didn't find her the least bit _abrasive_. Witty, with a dry sense of humour, and perhaps a bit of a loose lip, but hardly abrasive.

_"You are the only one to say so. Even my father tells me it is so."_

His eyebrows drew together heavily in a frown. _"I don't understand that."_

Vanna shrugged. _"I don't care."_

He raised an eyebrow, not missing the way her eyes darted away from his to stare off to the side as she stated this.

_"I don't,"_ she insisted.

_"Sure you don't,"_ he agreed, completely disbelievingly.

_"Most people are not worth my time,"_ she sniffed.

Harry cracked a grin. _"Uh-huh."_

_"You are very irritating."_

_"I aim to please."_

_"And not very prince-like."_

_"We'd already established that."_

Their amusement was palatable. Harry's mouth twitched in a smile and Vanna's did the same.

_"Okay," _he laughed a few seconds later. _"So, when are the healers coming back?"_

Vanna thought about that for a few moments before responding. _"They've been gone for about an hour now. I think they will be back soon."_

Harry nodded thoughtfully and glanced around at the infirmary again for something to do. Vanna watched him in silence. After a few awkward moments where neither could think of anything to say, Harry muttered, _"So, I guess we never really had much opportunity to talk last time." _

_"No,"_ she agreed, _"I believe you were too busy stepping on my toes."_

_"Did not!"_ He exclaimed.

Vanna smiled teasingly. _"Well, you might as well have been."_

Harry despaired. _"Was I really that terrible?"_

Vanna's lips quirked, her ears twitching suddenly in repressed laughter and Harry realised she was messing with him. _"Truly you weren't that awful, your Highness."_

Harry shrugged and sighed, stating, _"Dancing's not my thing."_

_"Then what is?" _Asked Vanna curiously, stepping past him to settle herself down on one of the beds. She looked up at him and patted the area beside her.

Harry sat down beside her, stretching out his legs, before he answered. _"Fighting. Magic. War."_

_"Oh,"_ she whispered softly, head turning away to stare out the window. Harry observed her reaction from the corner of his eye, inwardly wincing. He shouldn't have been so blunt.

_"It's what I grew up knowing,"_ he said.

Vanna turned back to him and stared at him unblinkingly. Her large green eyes were unnerving and he was hard pressed not to look away. _"I had forgotten your Highness grew up in the human realm. I can only imagine how barbaric it must have been." _She stared at him with compassion.

Harry just shook his head. _"No, it wasn't that bad. I've had a good life."_

_"But the humans...they are so…"_

_"So what?"_ He asked warily.

Vanna shrugged a shoulder. _"I could not imagine living amongst them."_

Harry looked away and stared at the doors on the far wall. _"I've got friends back there - people I care about."_ He thought about Ron and Hermione and all his other friends with a sad smile. He needed to go back. He wasn't going to let them keep him here so long as his friends needed him. _"Which is why I need to get back."_ He turned to her suddenly. _"Can you help? I need a way to convince my grandparents to let me go back."_

Vanna stared at him like he'd grown a second head, mouth open in shock and ears laid back. _"W-what?"_

_"Can you think of anything I might be able to use to convince them to let me go back? I _have_ to go back. It's really important!" _He implored.

_"No one in their right minds would let the Prince return to the human realm,"_ said Vanna stiffly.

Harry shut his eyes and took a deep breath. _"Maybe you don't understand. I go, either way. With permission or without permission."_

Vanna shot up from her position on the bed. _"You're going to run away?"_

Resolutely, he stated, _"Yes, if I must."_

The poor girl gaped at him for a while, obviously shocked out of her mind. She didn't seem to be able to understand _why_ Harry would do such a thing.

_"What is so important in the human realm that you would do this?"_ She finally asked in a hushed voice.

Harry glanced up at her, expression serious. _"Everything. My parents died when I was one, Vanna. Up until now, the only family I've known are my friends. If I don't return, they are going to die, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened."_

Vanna swallowed heavily, eyes still wide, but ears now drooping in resignation. _"So...you'll protect them no matter what? Even though they're just humans?"_

_"You say it like it's a bad thing. It's not. There's nothing wrong with humans."_

_"They're barbaric!"_ She cried suddenly and passionately. _"All they care about is death and destruction! They war and they fight and they kill each other over stupid, petty things!"_ Her voice dropped and cracked, _"They hunted us down because they were jealous of us - couldn't stand to be inferior. There were so many of them...they're like animals. They breed like animals!" _Harry could only watch in silent shock as she glared past his head and continued to rant. _"Humans took everything from us! Our realm, our _King_, everything that was ours we had to re-build. They only destroy the world around them - they contribute nothing to it! They're like a _disease_."_

Her words stunned him. He couldn't think past the fact that everything she was saying was true - in a way. He remembered his history lessons. At the time, he hadn't been paying too much attention. It was one of the first things he'd gone over with his tutor, and he had still been in too much shock over his abrupt species-change to really concentrate on what the elf had been saying. Now he remembered.

_'The humans called us Fae. Sidhe. To humans we represented everything they feared and coveted - long life, power, beauty, grace, sophistication, intelligence. So they warred with us. During the human stone age, they were too weak and pitiful to do any damage, but when they learned metal-work and magic, they began to grow more bold. Wars broke out with terrible consequences.'_

He remembered now what those consequences were.

_'Caladharan, the First King, was taken from us in a great battle. The humans had numbers, we had power, but we were too few. Caladharan sacrificed himself to prevent the humans from over-running one of the last remaining large cities we had left. After that we began to retreat into the new realm, building new cities and a new home.'_

Harry swallowed heavily, for once seeing it from an elf's point-of-view. Humans had taken everything from them. Vanna was right.

And yet...he knew that humans were no longer like the elves imagined. Yes, they could be cruel and petty and blood-thirsty, and it was so easy to let jealousy and negative emotions control you, but...they were also kind and compassionate. They loved and cared deeply. Ron and Hermione had loved and cared deeply for him. Their bonds of friendship weren't light - the ties ran deep, they'd been through a lot together.

_"Maybe that's true,"_ he whispered into the heavy silence, _"but they are more than that now. If it weren't for my friends, I wouldn't have survived to be here. They care for me more than you could imagine and they would die for me, as I would for them." _His voice nearly broke and he swallowed before continuing,_ "Everything you said is in the past - would you really blame an entire species on the mistakes of a few of their ancestors? Humans have come a long way since those times. They've really grown - I would know, I've had to take History class for most of my life."_

_"You would die for them?"_ Vanna wondered brokenly.

Harry nodded.

_"And they would die for you?"_

He nodded again, more firmly. _"Yes."_

_"Then perhaps you have found a few worth saving."_

He didn't bother to correct her - she was on the right path, at least. _"So you see? If I don't go back, something terrible will happen and they'll all die. I can't let that happen. I need to go back."_

_"Okay. Okay, I'll help."_

Harry let out a relieved sigh and smiled his best smile at her. _"Thanks, Vanna. Thank you so much."_

Vanna gave him a sketchy smile in return. _"Friends help each other, right?"_

Harry grinned wider and nodded. _"Yep."_

_"Then let's get brainstorming."_

* * *

He sat, back ramrod straight, features twisted into a stern scowl, and laid out his demands in a voice that was non-negotiable. _"I _will_ go back to Hogwarts come September. I _must_. And short of locking me in the dungeons, you won't be able to stop me." _Then, at the sight of his puce-faced grandparents, he added, _"Your Majesties." _Not that it helped.

A great deal of spluttering and raging followed his hefty demands. Harry rode out the storm (both literally and figuratively) with as much patience as he could manage as both his grandmother, then grandfather took turns yelling and berating him. But the points they made were nothing new - he'd heard them all before:

He was oh-so important; they couldn't lose him and it was too unsafe in the human realm.

He was the _prince_, he had a responsibility. He'd _promised_. This was his life now, he needed to forget his old one.

The humans weren't worth it.

It was forbidden for _Elwý _to go to the human realm anyway - and did he really think they'd make an exception for him?

The humans could not discover the continued existence of their people - look what happened last time during the human invasion!

At this point Harry expressed some confusion and he got a veritable history lesson in response. From what he gathered (apparently), up until the time of Merlin permanent portals had remained open at various strategic points in the human realm to create easier travel for any _Elwý _wishing to venture there for whatever purpose. Usually any humans who wandered into a portal would be suitably confused and proclaimed crazy, so it was never a problem. However, after one particular human wizard had discovered one of the larger portals, the man lead an army into the 'Fae' realm and managed to destroy an entire elven town before the royal army reached them and killed them all.

Harry felt rather sick after this explanation, especially when his grandparents insisted on telling him every gruesome little detail of the massacres that had taken place. His eyes stared unfocused out the window of the dinner lounge as his mind conjured horrible images of the broken bodies of young elves staining the roads red with blood. When they told him all the humans had been executed, he couldn't find it within himself to even feel the slightest bit sorry for them.

But gruesome stories aside, he set his expression and refused to back down, repeating his request (demand!) again and again, despite the heated denials that followed. So far his favourite - and the most irritating - was his grandparents' stubborn assertion that they held all the power, therefore they must be obeyed, and if they said 'No', then there was nothing he could do about it.

Harry's response to this had been, _"Short of physically incapacitating me and locking me in some decrepit dungeon somewhere, you wouldn't be able to stop me from going back. Either we compromise, or you lose me."_

Queen Allàwhta turned an even more interesting shade of red as she screeched at him and shattered yet another glass against the floor as winds swept it off the table. Food was scattered around them in haphazard piles from earlier bouts of uncontrolled fury. Plates and a few glasses were some of the only remaining things left on the table.

_"If you ran away, we'd drag you back kicking and screaming and confine you to your rooms for a decade!"_ Hissed his grandfather after a few moments spent finding his voice amongst his rage.

Harry tried not to think of the implications of that as he countered, _"Oh yeah? I'd find a way out, trust me. I've gotten out of worse situations! You'd have to keep me tied down! Besides, how would you get me back? Kidnap me? I'd be at Hogwarts; I'd like to see you take me by force!"_

The Queen slammed a fist into the edge of the table as she stared at him furiously, eyes glowing Killing Curse green and hair like snakes, writhing around her head. She was a sight to behold, and he couldn't help but be slightly in awe of her. He could see why so many of her subjects practically worshipped the ground she walked on.

_"Then we will tie you up!"_

_"And what _would_ the people say if you did that?"_ Harry wondered mockingly. _"Why, their beloved Prince Araëmel being locked away like a common criminal? There'd be a revolt."_

_"I am Queen, I may do whatever I like!"_

_"And I'm the future King!"_ He yelled back.

_"But right now you fall under _our_ jurisdiction, and you will do what we say!"_ Snapped the King.

_"You don't own me! I want to go back to Hogwarts. You want to talk about responsibility? I have a responsibility to my friends and the Order of the Phoenix, and I'm _not_ going to abandon them!" _He paused and shut his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself and think just a bit more rationally. _"It's just a few years until I graduate. What's a few years? For that matter, what's a few decades? You won't miss me either, I'll be back every summer, so what's the problem?"_

_"It. Is. Too. DANGEROUS!"_

Harry threw up his hands in disgust. Did they think him a china doll? Some poncy-ass snivelling coward that needed to be coddled and protected?

_"So?"_ He countered. _"Send some guards along if you're so damn worried!"_

Suddenly, he jerked back, his cheek stinging something awful. He raised a hand to it and stared at his grandfather in shock. The elf's hand was still raised, having just delivered a slap of hardened air across his face.

_"You will watch your language,"_ he said coldly.

Shaking his head, Harry let his hand drop to his lap, now slightly more wary but hardly deterred. So his grandfather had slapped him - big deal. It wasn't like Aunt Petunia hadn't done that a million times before when he did something wrong. A slap on the wrist for burning Dudley's bacon, or mixing up the laundry. Nothing new.

But it still hurt to know that his grandfather had resorted to physical violence. Even if his aunt had done it a thousand times...it still hurt.

_"We cannot send guards,"_ continued the King more calmly, as if he hadn't just slapped his grandson, _"that would be exposing ourselves to the humans, which we will not do."_

_"Disguise them,"_ Harry responded stubbornly, though slightly more subdued.

_"And how would they guard you if they are disguised?" _Retorted the King.

Harry bit his lip. _"I'll be safe inside the castle. It's got impenetrable wards. They'd just need to patrol the outskirts and everything would be fine."_

_"Absolutely out of the question,"_ responded the Queen.

_"Why?"_ Harry despaired. _"It's perfectly safe that way! I only got into trouble last time because I went looking for it - off school grounds! I promise I won't do anything like that again, and if I ever leave the school the guards can go with me and then I'll be safe."_

Which was a complete lie of course, but they didn't need to know about the Prophecy and what he had to do quite yet. If he told them it was either him or Voldemort, then they probably _would_ lock him in the dungeons and to hell with propriety.

_"Quenahgóla_ _has told us of your encounter with the Basilisk. The school is not safe. The humans are not safe."_

Harry made a mental note to yell at Quenah as soon as he escaped.

_"The Basilisk is dead. I killed it. There's no more danger at the school."_

_"I do not believe this." _The Queen paused to pat her hair down and rearrange a few strands before continuing, seeming much calmer than when they were all shouting and yelling at each other. _"This discussion is over. Return to your room. You have practise tomorrow."_

Harry clenched his jaw and glared at the table-top. Fine, they wanted to be that way, well, he'd just have to move onto plan B. Learn how to dimension hop. Once he learned the spell, he'd be home free.

He stood up, gave a short, angry bow, and then stalked from the room, mind racing.

_Fine. Let's see how you deal with things when I disappear. I gave you options - a safer compromise - and you refused to listen. Well that's fine, I'll just go behind your back. _

But first he had a silver-haired elf to ream.

* * *

**AN: **Don't have time to write much here today. Leaving for Monteray in a few minutes...eek! Anyway, planned to have this up yesterday...and lo and behold, **Bloody Skies** updated again. Freaky.

Few quick words:

Anyone who feels Vanna's reactions were a bit over the top, first please consider her circumstances. Indoctrinated from birth to believe the worst in humans, and because she is a healer she feels rather strongly about war and fighting and views the humans as being extremely fond of both. So don't judge her too harshly, yes?

Also, for anyone wondering when Harry was finally going to make a real stand...yup, here it is. Of course, maybe he won't need to resort to extreme measures...it all depends on whether he can wear down his grandparents first.

And finally, the chapter a lot of you have been waiting for will be next! That's right, we finally return to the human world for an interlude into the lives of the Order and our lovely Petunia Dursely. We find out how everyone is taking Harry's disappearance. Oooh, exciting.

...Er...right. Anyway, really gotta go now. I'll try and have the next chapter up within a week or so.

Thanks for all the lovely reviews (and especially the helpful ones!) I promise I appreciate input, no matter whether it's criticism or praise or simply an observation, so if you'd like a response (especially if you've mentioned something in my writing you disagree about, because I'd love to discuss the whys and hows with you), please do leave a signed review, not anonymous. I'd really, _really _appreciate it. :D

xoxRia


	14. A Cup of Tea

**Chapter 14:**

Araëmel looked up from his book and smiled. _"Vanna."_

Vanna grinned at him and gave a quick glance around the room before sitting next to him.

_"No one's here,"_ Araëmel assured her. _"I commanded that I be left alone."_

_"Good," _she said, leaning over to glance at his book approvingly. _"How's it coming?"_

Araëmel quirked a pained half-smile, _"Not so good. It's just so damn complex. I don't have that natural affinity with Runes that you do."_

_"Swearing, my Prince, is unseemly,"_ Vanna sniffed.

Araëmel laughed, knowing she secretly approved. _"My apologies, m'Lady."_

_"Anyway, it's a good thing I'm here to help you work it out, hm?"_

He nodded and she reached over, picking up his writing pen and crossing out a note he'd made on a piece of vellum about the spell he was studying - the Trans-dimensional portal spell. An extremely complex piece of magic, it wasn't an easy thing to learn, although for an _Elwý_ who had all the time in the world, it wasn't such a daunting prospect. However, Araëmel had a time-limit. He had to have it learned and be able to perform it perfectly by the end of the month.

_"How's Meldir's part of the plan coming along?"_ He asked.

_"Splendid," _Vanna replied absently, still scrutinising his diagrams. _"He's quite the natural at glamours. They'll never guess; after all, he's never had magic lessons."_

They both shared a smirk. Araëmel had been teaching Meldir for close to four months now, and while it wasn't very long, Meldir was a quick learner. He wasn't as powerful as Araëmel by far and still had a long way to go, but with Vanna's help, they had begun to teach him how to disguise himself.

When Araëmel made his escape, Meldir and Vanna were going to lead the guards on a merry chase throughout the castle and grounds. By the time they realised the Prince had disappeared, Araëmel should be long gone.

It was such a good plan, and he'd never be able to do it without his two friends helping. He was slightly disappointed they couldn't let Taswa in on it, but he knew that would be like asking to get caught - she'd never let him do it.

_"Well, I've still got a month left to get this down and I'm half-way there. I have a knack of getting the hang of something right when I need it too, so this should hopefully work."_

_"Our little magic prodigy," _cooed Vanna, reaching over to ruffle his hair and knocking his crown askew in the process.

_"Hey," _he scowled, trying not to smile. _"I'm not the only one."_

_"That's right. You'll never match me in healing."_

_"And glamour." _Araëmel rolled his eyes at her vanity.

_"That too."_

This time he reached over and tugged one of her curled locks of white-blond hair. She batted his hand away with the nib of the pen and smeared ink across his skin.

_"Serves you right,"_ she sniffed.

Running a finger over his skin counter-clockwise, he watched the ink disappear and gave her a smug look. She rolled her eyes and stood up, smoothing out the fabric of her large, billowy pants with a twitch of her fingers. Hair in place, clothes unwrinkled and gently drifting about her frame, she twirled on her heel and made for the door.

_"I need to get back to the Healer's Wing, but I'll be back later. If you change rooms, send a servant to let me know, won't you? We can go over the spell again and practice those Runes you have trouble with."_

_Not my fault I'm hardly artistically inclined,_ he thought irritably. _She doesn't have to sound so pleased about it._

But he had to agree that spending time with Vanna was never boring. She was a contradiction in everything she did and he liked her for it. She had many flaws too, but he thought she might not be so special without them - without her flaws, she'd be a lot less interesting to be around.

But they really had to work on her pathological hatred of the human species.

_"Good bye," _he called at her retreating back. She waved a hand gracefully and then skipped out the door.

He bent his head back over his book with a sigh. He _really_ needed to understand these Runes if he was ever going to get that spell right.

* * *

The Order was in an uproar - had been ever since the beginning of summer when one Harry James Potter had disappeared mysteriously from No. 4 Privet Drive. For two months now they'd searched and searched and were still no further in their hunt than they had been the first week after Mad Eye Moody had discovered Harry missing from his house.

When questioned, the Dursleys had adamantly insisted that Harry was perfectly fine and that he'd be back in time for the start of sixth year. This might have been easily sorted out had they not refused to share Harry's location and the people he was with. They had been questioned twice more to no effect - nothing new was revealed and Mrs. Petunia Dursley didn't deviate from her previous assertions.

"I say we give the blasted woman Veritaserum and be done with it. She clearly knows more than she is telling," Snape had suggested at the third Order meeting.

This idea had been met with much disproval, but now, only four days away from the end of summer and still no sign of Harry it was beginning to look far more appealing.

"I just don't understand it Ron, I really don't. Nothing adds up," complained Hermione for the one hundredth time as she shook a long roll of parchment in her fist and looked helplessly at her three friends.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville were all congregated in Ron's blindingly orange room, perched on various surfaces and trying their hardest not to look quite as miserable as they felt. They were waiting for the start of the last Order meeting before school started up again. For once they'd all four been included in every aspect of the search for Harry. After all, who better to consult than Harry's closest friends? The ones who knew him best?

Hermione opened up her roll of parchment and let her eyes skim over it with a scowl.

"I mean, really, _none_ of it does," she added.

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair wearily. "I know Hermione. We all know, but what can we do? There's no more clues."

"It's like trying to figure out a puzzle with more than half the pieces missing," sighed Ginny, huddled on Ron's bed, her hands wrapped around her knees and her chin resting between them.

"But are we sure?" Asked Hermione, spreading the parchment out on Ron's tiny desk. "Isn't it possible one of us missed something? That there's one last piece that no one noticed that's the key to fitting the whole thing together?"

"The Professor wouldn't have missed anything like that," said Neville morosely.

No one said anything to that, as they all had to agree.

"But what about that magical residue? Are we sure we've checked every known creature or being from all over the world for anything remotely similar? Isn't it possible we overlooked one?" Hermione was grasping at straws, and they all knew it, but no one wanted to say it out loud. She answered her own question. "I know. We've had all sorts of experts on it and none of them had a clue. But it just...it just doesn't make _sense_."

"None of this makes sense, but we still can't give up hope," said Neville firmly.

Hermione blinked back tears.

"I mean," he continued, "look on the bright side. We're almost certain Voldemort doesn't have him, which is good. Nothing could be worse than that."

"We don't know for sure though," said Ginny in a small voice.

"But we're almost certain," Neville affirmed strongly and Ginny nodded.

They sat in silence, all four thinking about the past two months and all the chaos and drama of their best friend's disappearance.

Then, there was a knock on the door and either Fred or George's head poked in and informed them that everyone had arrived for the meeting. They got up, Hermione rolling up her parchment where she'd documented every little fact and clue that the Order had come up with - even the more outlandish ideas. Single file they followed Fred-or-George down the stairs and into the Weasley's magically expanded kitchen.

After Sirus's death they had moved the Order meetings to a new place each time for fear that any one of the still living Blacks might gain access to Grimmauld Place and attack them. For the final meeting they'd chosen the Burrow and Dumbledore and Bill Weasley had set up some basic wards around the property. Everyone had emergency portkeys that would take them to the border of Hogwart's wards if they were attacked.

The four students found seats near the other Weasleys, close to Dumbledore's left. Fred-or-George found his look-alike counterpart and sat a few seats down the table. Once the room had settled, Dumbledore stood and addressed the crowd.

"My friends. This is the last meeting we will have before summer ends and still, unfortunately, we have had no progress in locating our missing charge. We have run out of time. Drastic measures just may have to be taken." He fell silent and everyone shifted uncomfortably. No one liked the idea of doing anything drastic, but it was looking to be unavoidable.

"Professor?" Spoke up Hermione timidly, still feeling awkward being the centre of attention, no matter how many times she'd done it throughout the summer.

"Yes, Ms Granger?"

"Nothing new has come up? Nothing new at all?" Hermione fussed with her parchment - her lifeline throughout everything.

"I'm afraid not." Dumbledore's eyes had long ago stopped twinkling, but right now they seemed even duller than before.

"I propose," came the dangerously soft voice of Snape as he emerged from where ever he'd been lurking to stand behind Dumbledore's chair, "that we give the Dursley woman Veritaserum. She is hiding something. She knows where the brat has gone, I am positive."

Dumbledore frowned mildly. "Now Severus, we don't know that for certain."

Mad-Eye Moody thumped his leg on the ground and barked, "Hold up! For once I agree with the boy. That Dursley woman is definitely hiding something."

And then everyone was adding their opinions about the matter, all trying to speak over one another to be heard. The noise volume in the room rose to epic proportions.

"Do you think Harry's aunt knows where he is?" Asked Neville uncertainly to those surrounding him.

"I wouldn't put it past her to hide stuff, especially if it meant getting rid of Harry," muttered Ron sourly.

"Ron!" Hermione interjected in admonishment.

"What? It's true! They're a nasty piece of work, those muggles."

"I bet if we were there when they questioned her we might get some clues," said Ginny thoughtfully. They all agreed. So far only Dumbledore, Snape and Moody had gone to interrogate the Dursleys and still no luck.

"Quiet down please!" Dumbledore's magnified voice carried across the ruckus and slowly everyone settled down and stopped speaking. "Now, Alastor, what makes you think that Petunia Dursley knows more about what happened to Harry and is simply choosing not to tell us?"

Moody straightened in his chair and let his magical eye sweep over everyone once to make sure they were paying attention before he spoke. "A clear sign of liars, or people with secrets to hide, Albus, is when they don't meet your eyes. She is also clearly nervous whenever we visit and her hands twitch constantly. And the Dursley male! He sweats buckets every time and can barely speak when asked! He always lets his wife intervene and answer his questions for him. She is clearly lying."

"Precisely," added Snape crisply, earning himself a mild glare from the retired auror.

Dumbledore sighed and tapped a finger on the table, a small, thoughtful frown on his face. "While this is true, you are perhaps both forgetting that Harry's relatives are not the most magic friendly people. I'm sure most of us know of the trouble Hagrid went through just to get Harry his Hogwart's letter for first year. It could simply be that the Dursleys do not appreciate our presence and find themselves nervous when confronted with anything of a magical nature."

"He's got a point," mumbled Ron to his friends.

"She's lying I tell you," insisted Moody.

"Why not perform legimancy on the woman?" Mussed Snape.

"Slip truth serum into her tea, it's more reliable," argued Moody.

"Legimancy is much less hassle," replied Snape with a mild sneer.

"And who's to say you'll recount everything you learn truthfully, eh?"

"Enough," interrupted Dumbledore, giving a stern look to both of his colleagues.

The matter of Petunia Dursley's secrets was dropped briefly in favour of getting opinions from the rest of the gathered Order. Harry's four friends sat quietly as each person offered a solution, though many of them would never work.

However, it was clear that the frustration level in the room was rising, and soon more suggestions were put out for questioning the Dursleys once again using truth spells and potions. Hermione bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably in her seat whenever this was mentioned, exchanging glances with an equally uncomfortable Neville. Ron however saw the need, and quite frankly he wasn't all that enamoured of Harry's relatives in the first place, so a little truth serum wasn't going to do much harm.

By the time the meeting was half over, almost everyone could see what actions were going to be taken - only Dumbledore's continued rallying for alternate methods kept the arguments going until eventually he gave in as well.

"Very well," said Dumbledore wearily at the end of the meeting, "Alastor, Severus, and Arthur please accompany me to outside the wards. We will apparate to Hogsmead where Severus can collect any potions he sees fit, and then we shall pay the Dursley's one last visit."

Witches and wizards began to clear from the room, either using the floo or leaving the house to apparate. Molly Weasley kissed her husband good bye and good luck on the cheek while he gathered his muggle coat. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville quickly disappeared back up the stairs again.

"Wish Luna was here," sighed Neville mournfully as they settled once more in Ron's room. "She always manages to say something silly to cheer us up."

"What's there not to be cheerful about?" Demanded Ron hotly. "They're finally going to get something out of Harry's rotten relatives!"

Hermione glared at Ron and Ginny smacked her brother on the arm.

"Ron! You're so insensitive!" Huffed Hermione.

"And what makes you think they'll get anything anyway? Besides, who knows what truth potions would do to a muggle..." Ginny added.

"Actually," continued Hermione, "I've come to appreciate Luna's somewhat twisted logic. Occasionally she can say something quite intelligent."

Ron snorted and Hermione shot him another mild glare.

"I know," sighed Neville. "If it weren't for her we'd all think Harry ran away, she was the one that pointed out it wasn't possible, given the circumstances and his personality."

"Right," nodded Hermione.

"So what now? Just wait and hope?" Asked Ginny, glancing at each of the others.

They exchanged glances and and Hermione smiled bitterly.

"Yeah."

* * *

Petunia Dursley liked to think she was a decent person every once in a while. Oh, she had no illusions that she could be rather cold-hearted when the occasion called for it - after all, she'd been brought up that way. The elven realm wasn't a place for soft-hearted, starry-eyed princesses; especially eldest-born princesses passed over and forgotten for their younger siblings. But right now was a time for compassion - compassion for a nephew she'd neglected and trodden down upon from the moment she'd laid eyes on him.

If she was honest with herself she knew she'd been jealous. She'd been jealous of everything he represented - first-born, powerful, magical, and most importantly, _worthy_. If anyone could have been a worthy heir to the throne of _Elwýn_, it would have been Lily's son. Even she, magicless, blue-eyed Petunia, could sense the latent power surrounding him whenever he got emotional. It was staggering and frightening, and so she'd reacted just like any creature in fear and run away, hiding behind her husband and letting him dictate her actions and feelings. Vernon had always been the most afraid though, and so he'd reacted the loudest and most violently, verbally abusing the boy until he had become their obedient servant.

But now she had to act, because now Harry was embroiled in everything she'd promised she'd spare him from. When he'd arrived on her doorstep she hadn't cared much about him past mild annoyance, but she'd still remembered the promise she and Lily had made to each other; that they would help each other and their families keep away from the claws of their bigoted and demanding parents. So despite the way she'd treated her nephew, she'd made sure none of his elven heritage would ever rear its head - until now.

She still felt angry at herself for letting them see Harry at her house. Up until then, the _Elwý_ had been convinced that Harry had died with Lily and James, though there was still speculation. But they had had no reason to suspect he was with her, and then she had foolishly let them see him when they'd come to investigate once more. And speaking of investigating, she still had no idea why they had thought to come visiting again, and so soon too - only fifteen years (or forty-five elven years) between visits was almost unheard of for the long-lived _Elwý_.

Petunia stirred her tea angrily and pursed her lips, staring down at the milky brown substance in thought. Who knew what had been going through their minds? Still, it was almost time to implement her plan to get him back. She just had to gather the necessary materials for the transportation circle - and use her emergency charm necklace to summon enough magic to make it work. It was risky, and she might have to feed it some of her life energy to make it work, since it was transporting between realms and not just physical places, but she would manage.

Then, she could appeal to the King and Queen for Harry's return for the school year, which, after she presented her trump card, they would have to agree to. After all, as soon as she mentioned the possibility of discovery by the wizards, her parents would be forced to let Harry return to abate the panic and suspicions that would spread across the wizarding world once they discovered their hero and saviour missing. She supposed there was at least some good in Harry being the blasted Boy-Who-Lived.

After she'd brought him back to the human realm, she and Harry could brainstorm ways to keep him away for good. Perhaps he could marry a human? Or simply disappear under the Fidilus Charm like Lily and James? There were many possibilities to be explored for Harry's last two years at that infernal school.

She took a sip of tea and thought approvingly to herself that she did make quite a good cup of tea, if she did say so herself. Then, she heard the doorbell ring and she slowly put down the cup. No one was supposed to be calling at this time and Vernon was out with Dudley, so it couldn't be for them. Perhaps a solicitor or a neighbour.

Petunia stood up and smoothed down her floral summer dress, walking briskly to the front door from the living room. When she opened the door, the smile on her face, ready to greet whoever happened to be on the other side, instantly fell and she wished she'd never opened it in the first place.

"Oh," she scowled, "it's _you_."

Albus Dumbledore, sporting a ridiculous looking waistcoat complete with pocket watch and matching trousers, stood there smiling gently, along with the creepy old man with the constantly moving eye (Allen? Lester?), and two men she remembered most intimately - both for very different reasons. One was Lily's old school friend, looking very disagreeable with lanky, black hair, a scowl to rival her own, and a formal black suit that made him look like he was headed to a funeral - the other was the Weasel fellow, who had so kindly destroyed and then repaired her living room a year or two ago. _That_ was one incident she wasn't likely to _ever_ forget.

"Good day," she said coldly, and then tried to shut the door in their faces. Unfortunately, the crazy old man, the one who always stared unnervingly at her whenever they came to question her over Harry's disappearance, stuck his wooden leg in the way.

"Mrs. Dursley," greeted Dumbledore sombrely. "I was wondering if we might have one last chat, perhaps over tea?"

It was clearly not a request, but an order. Petunia looked from one determined wizard to another and finally decided it might go better if she let them in, and quickly, before anyone saw them at her doorstep. She opened the door as wide as it would go and barked at them to get inside and _quick_. They complied and she watched them as they all trooped into the living room, where they'd had their last two chats. She shut the door hurriedly and went into the kitchen, hardly believing she was yet again making _tea_ for those...those..._wizards!_

Very well, she would entertain them only long enough for them to ask the same useless, stupid questions again, lie like always, and then shove them out the door.

She entered the living room five minutes later with a tea tray and noticed that they'd all situated themselves around the area where she'd been sitting earlier with her tea near the telly. In fact, her tea was probably cold by now. This thought brought a further scowl to her face. Blasted wizards!

She sat down, placing the tray on the table and making sure to keep an eye on the red-head because she knew he was prone to extensible excitement when confronted with anything _normal_.

"Ah, wonderful Petunia, thank you," said Dumbledore cheerfully when she passed him his tea. Then he reached into his sleeve and pulled out his wand, causing her to stiffen. "Perhaps you would allow me to re-heat your own?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead reached across the table and tapped her cup of cold tea with his wand. There was a strange shimmer, as if the tea contained chemicals that were reacting strangely, and she stiffened further. From what she knew of wizard magic, a heating charm should not have been visible like that to her - senses dampened and everything.

No, Dumbledore had done something else to her tea as well.

Not letting on that she knew, but feeling extremely angry to the point where she could barely hold the cups steady as she passed them to the rest of those _people_, she finished setting out the tea and settled back in her chair, refusing to touch her own. She would not be drinking that tea. Did they think her a fool? She may have been 'muggle', but she wasn't stupid.

"Aren't you going to drink your tea?" Asked Snape silkily, eyes attempting to bore into her own. She avoided them fastidiously and instead observed as Weasel shifted uncomfortably at this remark. Something had _definitely _been done to her tea.

"No," she replied shortly.

There was a pregnant pause after this and Weasel shifted again. Petunia let the heavy silence hang and waited for the Headmaster to get on with his visit and leave her in peace once more.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Well, Petunia, I'm sure you know why we're here. Again, I implore you to try and remember if there's anything you mightn't have told us. Anything at all."

Petunia would have rolled her eyes had it not been extremely undignified and childish for one such as herself. Instead, she snorted derisively and said cooly, "This is the _fourth_ time you've asked me this and every time my answer has not changed. It will be no different this time."

"If Harry is, as you insist, most likely well and unharmed, then why can you not tell us where he is?"

Petunia maintained her cool expression as she spoke, though her hands clenched around the fabric of her dress. "I will say this one last time. Harry has simply gone to spend the summer with some one other than myself and your band of wand-waving loonies for once. I don't see _why_ the matter of where _my_ nephew spends his summer, since it is clearly out of your jurisdiction as his school teacher, should be of any concern to you so long as he shows up again, on time, for the start of term."

She thought she saw Snape's eyebrow twitch in annoyance, and the crazy-eyed man clearly glared at her, but she paid it no heed, refusing to look any of them in the eye. They did not deserve to be graced with that much acknowledgement from herself.

"Madam," said Snape, an underlying hint of barely controlled anger in his tone, "you know perfectly well _why_ Mr. Potter is of importance to us, and you also know perfectly well why it is imperative that he remain in _safety_ for the summer, not off galavanting around the countryside with a bunch of unknown riff-raff!"

Petunia had to hide her amusement at this. Galavanting? Riff-raff? She wondered what the _Elwý _would do if they were ever called _riff-raff_ to their faces. Probably run a sword through the human offender would be her first guess. She spent several seconds composing herself and tried not to let the tremors of her humour show in her body language.

"I'll tell ye what, lass, I know you're lyin'. I can tell. So tell us where the boy is and this doesn't need to turn unpleasant."

Petunia blinked at the scarred old man and couldn't help but blink in shock. Had the...lunatic...threatened her?

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Alastor, please."

Oh, his name was Alastor. What a perfectly abnormal name. She wrinkled her nose.

"Mrs. Dursley, it really is of the utmost importance that Harry is returned to us as soon as possible. He is in grave danger from Voldemort. Surely you understand this?"

"Yes!" Petunia all but shrieked. "I understand _perfectly_. And I assure you he _will_ be back in time and that I _will not_ tell you where he is, nor who he is currently with. I sent him off with distant relatives, that is _all you need to know_. Now, you will get out of my house immediately or I will call the police." She stood up and marched over to the door to the living room, glaring at all four men until Weasel jumped up, looking apologetic. Dumbledore remained seated.

"Mrs. Dursley. Petunia. Are you certain-"

"OUT!" Snapped Petunia.

Weasel jumped again, his ears turning red. He hurried towards the door, muttering nonsense under his breath at her like "lovely tea," "very kind," and "most sorry" which she hardly paid a whit of attention to. Slowly, the others began to follow his example, though with much more glaring and muttered threats instead of niceties. Finally, after what seemed to her like an epic journey through hell, she finally managed to get them all out of her house, after which she promptly slammed the door in their faces.

And good riddance.

Then, Petunia began her preparations in earnest. Making sure those abnormal people were nowhere in sight, she grabbed her purse and a list of ingredients for the dimensional transporter circle that she would need. With these stupid wizard's persistence, it would look like she needed to up her schedule a bit and get Harry back as soon as she could. She would go and see their majesties tonight.

Getting into the car, she began to recite her carefully prepared argument in her head, making sure there were no holes. It would have to be perfect, but she would succeed. After all, she was a princess, and princesses always got their way.

* * *

**AN: **So, who didn't believe I'd actually update by the end of the week? Oh yeah, I proved you all wrong! **does victory dance**

Anyway, by the time most of you read this, I'll be out of the country on my way to Japan...or, already _in _Japan. Gasp. I don't know what it's going to be like or what will happen and whether I'll have time to write or even have internet access! Fortunately, they _do _have internet cafes, but the point is, you may not hear from me for a few weeks at the least. We'll see.

Moving on: Here it is, the part you've all been waiting for....the answer to many of your questions! There's been a bit of a time-skip for Harry at the beginning of the chapter, in case you hadn't noticed. It's about a month before he needs to leave Elwyn for Hogwarts. We then time jump _again _to four days before school starts (12 days for Harry) and we finally - _finally _- learn what's been happening with the Order. Oooh, exciting. And (also) finally, we get some juicy insight into Petunia's somewhat twisted little head. Look, she does have a heart! Sort of.

Let me know what you think please! Response to the last chapter, while not particularly numerous, was rather insightful, so I really appreciated that! I tried to respond to as many of the reviews as I could, especially any questions. I think I got them all in review replies though, but if I missed someone (and it wasn't just a rhetorical question), let me know please and I'll be glad to clarify any inquiries. :D

Well, I'm beat. Been packing all day. Time for bed and...in the morning...off to Japan for a year! Meep!

Sayonara, minna-san!

xoxRia


	15. Return

_Important AN at end of chapter, please read! Thanks!_

**Chapter 15**

It had been so long since he'd first come to _Elwýn_ that he had forgotten just how disorientating the trans-dimensional transportation circle could be.

Fortunately, Araëmel had remembered to close his eyes to the bright glow of the magic, and thus was at least able to see afterwards. Wrinkling his nose and feeling a slight sense of vertigo, he immediately sat down on the couch in his aunt's living room and sighed. After a few seconds of reorientation, he looked around him and felt like he was in a dream. It seemed so long since he'd left the human world for the realm of the elves (among other beings), and he couldn't help but feel slightly claustrophobic in the small, enclosed space. He'd become so used to the large, airy rooms of the elves and their connection with nature and the outdoors, that being surrounded by so much technology was disconcerting.

Not to mention it was smelly. He wrinkled his nose again.

_"Araëmel-aryón, we will take our leave now. We wish you luck and safety. Please do not let the humans discover anything."_

Araëmel looked up at his two escorts and nodded his head once in acknowledgement. _"Thank you. I know the rules, don't worry."_

He heard footsteps and turned to acknowledge his aunt as she entered the room. He knew it had been she who had managed to convince his grandparents to let him return, but he didn't know exactly what words had been exchanged. But whatever it was had been effective, because here he was, complete _with _permission.

In a way he was actually kind of disappointed at that. He'd just managed to learn the trans-dimensional portal spell and had had his plan all set and ready to go when suddenly, out of the blue he'd been called into the throne room where mass chaos was reigning supreme, only to be informed in clipped tones that he was returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year and to prepare himself.

He supposed it was a good thing that his grandparents had finally caved and that he would be going back with their blessing, but...it had been such a great plan, it was a complete shame not to implement it!

All that effort gone to waste…

Sighing internally, he turned his attention back to his aunt. He hadn't seen her since that first day when she'd left him on his own in his rooms, and while it had been longer for him than it had been for her, it was Petunia who ended up looking like she'd seen a ghost, not Araëmel. She stared at him with wide eyes, unblinkingly. Araëmel shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then quickly stood up, glancing back to his escorts.

_"You may leave now. I will be fine. My aunt can contact you if anything happens."_

_"Her Majesty will send the Black Guard when you leave for the human magic school, your Highness,"_ said one of his escorts.

Araëmel nodded, having already known this. It was one of the stipulations he had had to agree to before he could return. But he also knew that the Black Guard were trained in stealth and assassination and would not bother him unless he ventured beyond the safety of the castle wards.

_"Very well,"_ he replied.

The two elves bowed low and moved a safe distance away to draw a new circle on the ground. Araëmel's things were left sitting in the space the old circle had occupied. It didn't take long for the two other beings to disappear and when they had, Araëmel was left standing awkwardly in the small, oppressive room. He glanced back to his aunt to find that her complexion had evened slightly and she looked less pale and more like herself.

_"Aunt Petunia…"_ He acknowledged uncertainly.

Petunia blinked.

Araëmel blinked.

They both continued to stare at the other.

_"Right,"_ Araëmel broke the silence, desperate to fill it, _"I'll just, uh, go put my stuff in my room." _Quickly, he reached out and gestured his two trunks into the air so he could carry them up the stairs. Trunks bobbing along merrily behind him, he attempted to skirt around his aunt, who was still standing in the doorway, but she didn't budge.

"What have they done to you?" She finally whispered, staring at him.

Araëmel startled, almost dropping his luggage in shock. The harsh sounds of English had not been what he was expecting. He hadn't heard the language in so long, the contrast between it and _Elwýnllambe_ was so apparent that he was momentarily speechless. He hadn't even realised he'd become so used to _Elwýnllambe_ either, it had just come naturally.

He blinked and shook his head to clear it.

_"What?"_ He eventually said, still speaking in elvish.

"They've turned you into another elf clone, haven't they?" Said Petunia, now watching him warily.

Again, the sounds of his first language grated on his ears. It felt almost surreal. It would seem he would have to get used to speaking in English again.

"What?" He asked again, this time making sure he was speaking the right language. His voice came out a little funny.

"What did they _do_?" His aunt now demanded, a scowl beginning to form on her face.

"Uh, nothing?" Araëmel wasn't sure whether that was a question or an answer. His voice sounded less funny this time around though, so he was pleased.

Suddenly, Petunia sighed and the frown left her.

"You look so much like your mother," she suddenly offered, startling Araëmel. "I never noticed before, but you really do."

_"Thanks,"_ he said quietly, feeling pleased by this. Everyone always said he looked so much like his father, but only had his mother's eyes. Now it seemed he had more of her than he originally thought.

"Take your things upstairs and get changed then. Vernon and Dudley will be home soon, and dinner is in an hour."

He nodded, glancing down at his clothes. He supposed he would have to rummage through his school trunk for something human to wear. He made to move past his aunt, but she wasn't done yet.

"And Harry, we will need to discuss your...delicate situation at a later date."

Araëmel blinked in shock. No one had called him Harry in…what? Five months? Almost six? His name was Araëmel now. Harry was so..._human_ sounding. Plain. Ordinary.

"Um, right," he said, suddenly really eager to get up to his room and leave the awkwardness of this confrontation behind.

This time, his aunt did move out of the way, though she narrowed her eyes at his floating luggage and her mouth pressed into a thin line, a clear sign that she was _not_ pleased. Araëmel (Harry?) ignored her and practically fled up the narrow staircase. When finally in the safety of his own, if cramped, room, he let his things drop and quickly flopped down on the uncomfortable bed. He grimaced. He didn't remember it being quite this bad. He tried to adjust himself, moved his clothing around and the bed sheets, but it didn't really help much.

Grumbling to himself, he sat up and reminded himself he'd be off to Hogwarts soon, where he'd be surrounded by his old friends and pseudo-family. It had been so long since he'd seem them all. Feeling a spark of eagerness and longing ignite in his heart, he jumped up and began to search for something human to wear.

Fortunately for Araëmel - no wait, Harry - in the week between being told he was going back to the human realm to complete his schooling at Hogwarts and actually leaving, his grandparents had commissioned virtually all capable tailors and seamstresses to create a brand new human wardrobe for him. They had taken all his human clothes (ones that hadn't been handed down from Dudley - Araëmel had stubbornly refused to even let them _see_ the baggy, thread-bare monstrosities) and had studied them, wizard and muggle alike.

Now, Araëmel was the proud owner of a brand new wardrobe, complete with multitudes of wizarding robes in all styles and colours, as well as casual and formal muggle wear for all occasions. However, what he was most grateful for were the high quality elven fabrics they'd used to make the clothes. With more sensitive senses and no actual 'skin' to fully dampen them, Quenah had informed him that he would have been most uncomfortable in the scratchy fabrics of his previous human clothes.

He just hoped that no one would realise that the fabrics weren't exactly the type of thing you would find at Madame Malkin's.

Speaking of skins: Araëmel - Harry! - opened his elvish trunk and levitated out the lacquered box which rested on the very top. Pulling the lid open, he gazed down at the gold charm on the end of a long chain. Slowly, he held it up to the light and gazed at it wordlessly.

This would be his disguise. It had been what his parents had used whenever they weren't in a proper 'skin'. The closest wizarding magic that imitated the same results was a glamour. But no one did glamours like the 'fae' so he knew that once he put it on, it would be the perfect disguise.

Turning to face the small mirror that hung on the wall, he slipped the chain over his head and watched his reflection change. Suddenly a face that he hadn't seen for half a year stared unblinkingly back at him.

At the same time, he felt as if someone had placed a bag over his head and was suffocating him. Gasping for breath that he felt he couldn't suck in, he wrenched the charm off and immediately felt all his senses come flooding back.

That had been _horrible_.

He hadn't realised that the glamour would be able to dampen his senses so much. Especially his magical senses which had grown exponentially over the months. It didn't reduce him to the state of a normal human - like he'd been before the initial reversion to his real body - but it was damn close.

And it felt like hell.

He didn't know how he could have possibly survived before. For that matter, he didn't know how _any_ human could survive, living as they were.

And what about his aunt? How did she cope? His parents - how had they spent so many years hiding under such repression?

He tossed the charm on his bedside table and glared at it. So long as he didn't _have_ to wear it, he simply wouldn't.

Instead, Araëmel (_Harry!_) set about changing into some human clothes. He found a plain button down shirt that felt almost like it was made out of silk (though he knew that it was a special elven weave made from an animal's fur native to _Elwýn_). Next he pulled on some imitation jeans. They had the same sturdiness and colour, but on closer inspection, were made out of something completely different than denim. Denim would have been far too rough against his skin.

Dressed satisfactorily, '_Harry'_ folded his elvish clothes and placed them at the bottom of his elvish trunk. He'd have to find some way to hide it at school. Maybe a shrinking spell using elvish magic so it wouldn't be detected by the ministry? Then, when he got to school he could use wizard magic to glamour it as well.

Sounds from below made him pause for a moment and he glanced at his closed door and cocked an ear to listen. From what he could hear, his lump of an uncle and whale of a cousin had just returned and were demanding dinner. He hoped it wouldn't be some chemical filled substitute for real food.

Fortunately, while Vernon and Dudley may have had no qualms about stuffing themselves silly with junk food at any other time of the day, Petunia always insisted on cooking relatively organic meals. Rich in fats and salt; yes, but chemicals; no.

In the half an hour it took for his aunt to take the prepared food out of the fridge and cook it in the oven, Araëmel occupied himself with trying to reacquaint himself with everything human. He got out his school textbooks and his homework and scanned through them, and then did a breathing exercise to control his mild claustrophobia. Why did human rooms have to be so small and cramped? Where were the large windows?

And why did everything around him have to be so dead? The house was dull and lifeless, the colours drab. No magic permeated the walls nor did any magical appliances exist within the Dursley household.

He glanced out the (tiny!) window and blinked. The only magic nearby, it seemed, were the wards surrounding the house in a nearly opaque bubble of brightly lit, shifting colours. It was enough to make him dizzy, so he quickly looked away, feeling slightly ill. If a few wards on a muggle house could make him dizzy like that, then he dreaded to think what Hogwarts would look like.

Araëmel swallowed heavily and determined that he ought to practice wearing his disguise charm - and if that failed, practice suppressing his magic sight. Problem was, he didn't know how. It was natural to see magic - not the other way around. He would have to learn how to ignore the bright, flashy, almost psychedelic colours of wizard magic somehow or he would be having many difficulties this year.

He could see it now. Snape breathing down his neck as he tried to make a potion but ended up failing because he was too busy blinking spots out of his eyes to cut and dice the ingredients like they needed to be. Or worse, in Defence class, he wouldn't be able to aim a spell correctly because he'd be distracted by the light of the duel as the magic flared wildly.

Groaning, he put his head in his heads and massaged his temples slowly. This was going to be a problem. Dammit!

Eventually, he heard his aunt's shrill call to dinner. Sighing at the prospect of having to interact with two pigs in wigs, Araëmel exited his room and walked silently down the stairs. He then stood in the kitchen doorway and watched the alien interaction.

How long had it been since he had sat down in the small kitchen and ate fatty, British foods? How long since he had interacted with his overbearing uncle and piggy cousin? How long since he had smelled their sweaty presence filling the room?

Oh, wait, that was a more recent development. Unfortunately for Araëmel, his nose could be a little _too_ sensitive.

He obviously had a lot of adjusting to do. Hopefully it wouldn't take long. He needed to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible.

"YAAAARRRGHH!! MUM!"

Araëmel clamped his hands over his ringing ears and stared in shock at an equally shocked and gaping Dudley.

Petunia Dursley turned around and spotted her nephew standing in the doorway like a wraith. Her mouth compressed into a thin line as her eyes widened in mild anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" She hissed.

Araëmel wasn't quite sure what she was on about.

"MUM! MUM! It's a thing! Get it out quick!"

"Get out you!" Vernon added to the verbal abuse. Araëmel still didn't take his hands off of his ears.

_"Owww…"_ he moaned to himself, finally removing his hands just enough to massage his ear tips.

Petunia stalked up to him. "What do you think you are doing?"

Araëmel blinked. _"You called…"_ he stopped and tried again. "Uh, I mean, you called me down for dinner, didn't you?"

"But not like this!" She jabbed her salad tongs into his chest for emphasis.

He rubbed the spot and scowled slightly. "I changed like you asked."

Vernon decided it was time to add his two pence. "Whoever you are creature, you're not welcome in this house! Get out!"

Araëmel turned his glare to his uncle. "I've never been exactly welcome, _Uncle_."

Uncle Vernon's face drained of colour until he was a pasty white, looking remarkably like one of Hogwart's ghosts.

"H-harry?" Gasped his cousin.

Araëmel, whose name was really Harry (and he really needed to start remembering that), noticed that he was sitting rather forcefully in his chair and holding his hands behind him, no doubt over his backside.

"Who else would I be?" Asked Araëmel - _Harry_ - crossly, his ears laid back in annoyance.

"B-but you...you're…"

Araëmel-_Harry_ rolled his eyes. He wondered if Dudley and Vernon would make the connection between him, the elves, and finally Petunia, but doubted that their brains could ever consider such an association.

"Go put your skin on," Petunia finally demanded. She looked even more angry now, and he wondered if maybe she was thinking the same thing that he was. She probably hadn't wanted to let anything slip that would possibly reveal her inhuman origins.

However, Ara-Harry really couldn't care less. Besides, he rather thought that the look on Vernon's face when he discovered his wife was a "thing" would be more than worth it.

But he wasn't quite that cruel. So he wouldn't say anything.

"I refuse to put that thing on unless I absolutely _must_. And right now, I don't." He glanced at his own normal seeming aunt and shuddered slightly. How did she _do_ it?

"Go put it on right this instant or-"

"Or what?" He interrupted.

Petunia floundered for words. She obviously couldn't think of a good enough threat - at least not one she would be able to enforce without potential consequences.

"That's what I thought," concluded Harry.

His aunt's nostrils flared and her face tightened. She whirled around and marched over to the oven, busying herself with getting the food out and onto the table to complete their dinner. Harry waited for his uncle to take a reluctant seat before he sat himself opposite, making absent adjustments to his clothes. The chairs were awfully uncomfortable. Dudley squeaked and tried to scoot away.

"A-always knew you were a f-freak, Potter," Dudley half insulted, half whimpered.

Harry snorted and turned to stare at his cousin. Dudley squeaked again and stared into his eyes with fear and revulsion. They were probably glowing extra brightly.

"First," he said, "my name's not _actually_ Potter. It's _Araëmel'_o _Caladharan_. Second, if anyone's the freak here, it's _you_ Dudley...and I'll let you work that one out for yourself. And third, at least _I_ don't have to shop in the super-sized department." He eyed his cousin's bulk purposefully.

Dudley gaped at the insult, but it was Vernon who acted upon his anger. He stood up and slammed his hand into the table, reaching the other across as if to grab hold of Araëmel and shake him, but the salad server came down harshly across the back of his hand and he retreated, wide-eyed.

"Are you crazy?" His wife hissed at him. "Don't touch him!"

Araëmel almost smirked. Now that the _Elwý_ knew that he existed, if they ever found out that he was being mistreated in any way, they'd probably have the offending human executed for assault upon a royal personage. And since Vernon couldn't claim ignorance to his nephew's circumstances, that was one situation that would probably end very badly indeed.

"B-but! The boy needs some sense knocked into him!" Vernon exclaimed.

Petunia sat down, giving Araëmel a glare as she did so, and said, "And if you want to keep that hand, you won't lay a finger on him."

"Ha! That brat's stupid ministry won't let him do anything!"

"We're not talking about the wizarding freaks, Vernon!"

Araëmel (no, Harry) and Dudley silently watched the verbal volleyball.

"What other kinds of freaks are there?" Vernon sneered.

"The _Elwý_! And they are not governed by any laws on this earth! They'd kill you as soon as look at you, especially if you called them _freaks_," Petunia finally revealed.

Vernon blinked and then thought about this for several moments.

"You mean those pointy-eared, glowy-eyed freaks? Like him?" A hand was gestured in Araëmel's direction.

"_Yes!_"

"As if they'd get away with doing something like that. The government wouldn't allow it." Vernon seemed less sure of himself this time.

Petunia folded her arms and said clearly, "No one on this earth knows they exist. Except us. They answer to no one except their rulers."

Vernon paled slightly as the words finally wormed their way past his denial.

Then Dudley interjected something that Araëmel found to be rather out of character - it was _intelligent_. "How come you know so much about this Mum?"

Petunia was finally at a loss for words. She didn't know how to get out of this one. Araëmel decided to take pity on her.

"Because of me. She had to know to take care of me." A blatant lie, but oh well. He owed her that much for protecting him.

He then wondered if the two muggles would be intelligent enough to pursue the matter further. Fortunately, they didn't. Instead, it turned Vernon's attention to him.

"You just keep your mouth shut then, boy, and respect your betters."

Araëmel may have owed his aunt, but he owed his uncle nothing.

"Maybe you should take your own advice." Goodness it felt good to talk back at his uncle like that and be able to get away with it!

"Why you-!" Snarled Vernon, making ready to leap across the table again, despite everything.

"ENOUGH!" Screeched Petunia, glaring between the two of them. "Vernon, _sit down_. And Harry, stop aggravating Vernon. And all three of you _eat_." Then she took the serving spoon and slapped a whole spoonful of mashed potatoes down on her husband's plate with a glare.

Dinner finally commenced after that and Araëmel (_Harry_, his name was Harry) picked at his food. He ate only enough to stop his stomach from complaining and then asked to be excused.

Once upstairs back in his own room, he flopped gracefully down on top of the uncomfortable bed and turned his head to stare at the charm still sitting on his bedside table. Mind floating back to his aunt's words in the kitchen, he sat up and picked up the gold chain.

He'd have to get used to it eventually, right? So why not start now.

Taking a deep breath, he slipped it over his head.

Immediately, the suffocating pressure returned. It was like he was blinded and deaf and someone had clogged up his nose and wrapped his skin in a rubber film. Closing his eyes, he tried to take deep breaths to stave off the panic he was feeling.

One: in and out.

Two: in and out.

Three: in and out.

Slowly, he opened his eyes again and stared around at the dull, colourless room, which looked practically grayscale now. He could do this. It was the only way.

In and out.

But it was so distracting and oppressive to live like this! How would he concentrate on his lessons? How would he be able to sleep?

He wondered if he'd ever get used to it.

He pulled the charm off again and felt the pressure release. Sighing, he placed it back on the table and then laid back down again, trying to ignore his now heightened sensitivity and the rough feel of the covers and the hard, lumpy mattress.

Somehow, he figured it was going to be a long three days. He couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts.

* * *

**AN: Okay, so I bet you're all just about ready to lynch me for the long wait. I really have no excuse after the first month, seeing as I was settled by then, but I don't think I've had this much work to do since junior year of high school! I've got classes 3 days a week, all day from 9 till 6 with tests twice a week, and major exams every two weeks or so (and more recently a mid-term coming up), I work the other two days I'm not in class from dawn until dusk (literally 11 hours a day) and by the end of THAT I'm so exhausted I just wanna collapse in bed and sleep...but I still need to set aside time to study and do homework. I've got two free days which inevitably end up being snapped up by someone wanting to go out or go sight-seeing, karaoke, etc... (not to mention the weekend I had a homestay and no computer), and I also somehow need to juggle studying for the JLPT (Japanese Language Proficiency Exam) at level 2...which is pretty much akin to getting a 5 on an AP language exam (for you Americans) or like trying to get a high 70 percent or even 80 percent on an exam in Uni (for you brits)...**

**So please please forgive me, okies?**

**Oh, and just to add the icing on the cake: NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). And I'm not just aiming for 50k, oh no, I'm going for the big 100k. Actually at 28k right now so right on track. But I spent the last month's free time typing up a stockpile of chapters (this is also explained in my profile, if anyone wants to go read that) so I'll be able to update weekly this month, yay! Hope this makes up for the looooong wait. :(**

Anyway, just a quick comment on this chapter - had this written for ages but kept revising it over and over again because I wasn't happy with the way Harry/Araemel reacted to his return to the human world. I needed to show how much he had changed, but at the same time keep his personality fairly intact and in character (hope I succeeded! please feel free to comment if I haven't...).

For those of you who were getting psyched about reading his 'great, daring escape', I'm terribly sorry to disappoint. I never planned to have him do anything of the sort, but I also needed the 'escape plan' as a plot device for later. :P Forgive me for getting your hopes up about an exciting, action-filled chapter! *bows*

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Please please PLEASE review and let me know what you think. Or if you just want to yell at me for the long wait, that's fine too....

xoxRia

p.s. if anyone's interested, or participating in NaNoWriMo as well, my profile is under the same name as it is here: Aytheria. Look me up!


	16. Reunions and Complications

**Chapter 16:  
**

Araëmel stood at the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and King's Cross, both of his trunks shrunk down in the pocket of his trousers, one inside the other, and his wand tucked up his sleeve. He hesitated to go through the brick wall because he could easily imagine the reaction that would entail when he just showed up again after being missing the entire summer. Still, it had to be done, and he would have to try his best to avoid all questions directed his way.

He only hoped his friends could forgive his silence. It was for their own safety after all. If any human discovered the existence of the _Elwý_ then they might very well be "taken care of" by the Black Guard.

He shuddered at the thought and then, smoothing down his clothes once to get over his nervousness, he took a deep breath to fill his lungs (nearly choking on the thick, polluted London air) and stepped through the shimmering barrier.

A tingle passed over his skin, despite its dulled sensitivity, and only ceased once he broke through to the other side of the wall. Immediately, noises and smells assaulted his senses - much louder and pungent than he remembered. And the potions ingredients in each student's trunk were as noxious as if he had just stepped into the apothecary itself.

Well, it was nice to know that despite feeling like it, the glamour hadn't handicapped him completely.

Wrinkling his nose at the additional overwhelming smell of metal and oil and _human_, he looked around him at the sparkling platform. Everywhere he looked he could see glimmers of magic. He imagined that if he wasn't wearing his charm then he'd probably be having a hard time seeing anything beyond bright, flashy colours. Who knew that wizarding magic was so gaudy? Or that they used it for _so many_ things?

Finally composed, Araëmel strode forward, passing a group of giggling witches as he went. When he passed them they suddenly fell silent and stared. He frowned, wondering if his glamour wasn't working. But it had to be. Elven magic had the most powerful kinds of glamours.

So they were staring for a different reason. Araëmel smoothed down his hair and clothes with a subtle twitching of his fingers, but that only caused them to stare more. Now terribly freaked out, he hurried past them and managed to make his way to the gleaming scarlet engine and climb aboard without too much trouble - unless one counted the many stares that followed in his wake.

He weathered the storm. He'd got rather used to being stared at over the years, and his summer training had allowed him to appear as if he was completely composed. He would figure out why they were staring soon enough. To be honest, they were probably all staring because they hadn't expected him to come back for his sixth year and yet here he was.

Gliding down the train corridors, he peered through all the open doorways of the compartments. He found several empty ones, but kept moving further back, seeing as that was where his particular group usually sat. He was earlier than usual though, so he knew his friends were likely not there yet He just hoped he wouldn't run into a certain snot-nosed ferret instead.

Fortunately, in the last car he ran across Neville sitting rather gloomily in an otherwise empty compartment (completely ferret free might he add). His friend's back was faced away from the door, and so Araëmel slipped inside and knocked on the wood of the door frame as he did so.

"Knock, knock. Can I sit here?"

Neville jumped. Whipping around in his seat, he let out a breathless, "Who is - _Harry!?_"

Araëmel (Harry) grinned and waved sheepishly. "Hi, Neville." He plopped himself down opposite the other boy smoothly while his friend gaped at him.

"Wh-what. H-how. Huh?" Neville tried to find his voice while his eyes were busy flicking up and down Harry's form like he couldn't believe his friend was really there. "Where have you _been_!?"

Ara-_Harry_ bit his lip - both from guilt and trying not to laugh at his friend's floundering (he looked remarkably like a fish).

"And what's with your voice? You sound weird. You look different. And you're _taller_." Neville frowned and then said suspiciously, "Where are your _glasses_?"

Harry silently cursed. His glasses! How could he have forgotten such a simple thing? It had just been so long since he'd had to wear them, and he could see better than before, so it had never occurred to him to get new, non-prescription ones.

In addition, he hadn't realised he'd been speaking strangely. Then again, with a new voice box capable of making more sounds than a human's, it was bound to happen. And just how did he look different? Was there something strange about him? He smoothed down his hair and adjusted his clothes again, not noticing Neville's eyes narrow in confusion at the strange rippling of his clothing without a single breeze to speak of.

He _had_ got taller, but that wasn't all that strange. Unfortunately, he was still rather short for an elf, something he hoped would change over the years. He wasn't counting on fate to play a sympathetic hand this time though, and so had mostly resigned himself to being inordinately short for the remainder of his existence.

"I've just changed over the summer is all," Harry said, taking care to watch his voice, while still nervously adjusting and readjusting himself. He needed to stop putting elvish inflections on some of his vowels. "And, uh, I got my eyes fixed."

"You can do that?" Asked Neville, surprised.

Harry nodded. Of course, he didn't know if it was actually possible or not, but what wasn't possible with magic?

"Harry," said Neville softly, suddenly very serious, "we were worried sick. We didn't know what had happened to you. Why didn't you contact us? Tell us where you were?"

Harry didn't really know what to say. He'd prepared for this situation, but at seeing Neville's earnest and worried expression all words and explanations escaped him.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to answer Neville by the arrival of his other friends. Well, saved for the moment at least.

"Hi, Neville and hel-lo-oh my god…"

Harry glanced up at Hermione and then watched as both Ron and Ginny peered around her and then promptly lost their own voices. Then the brown-haired girl seemed to come back to herself and she suddenly threw herself at Harry and engulfed him in a suffocating hug.

"Ack! Hermione, I can't breath!"

"Harry, you _arse_!" She swore and punched him rather weakly in the arm. She then drew back, tears visible in her eyes, and sat herself next to him.

Next, Ginny imitated her friend by trying to suffocate him, which only grew worse when Ron decided to be un-manly and join in.

"Guys, I really don't think he can breathe," said Neville in amusement.

Finally, Ginny and Ron drew back - Ron sitting down next to Neville and Ginny on Harry's other side. And then Harry was only given a few seconds silence to begin to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable onslaught before he was bombarded with questions.

"Where _were_ you?"

"Why didn't you owl us?"

"What happened?

"What was that strange magical residue left in your aunt's living room? And where are your glasses?"

That last question was from, predictably, Hermione, and it left Harry feeling rather nervous. The elves had left a magical residue that the wizards had been able to detect? That wasn't good…

And honestly, only _Hermione_ of all people would ever ask such a thing, considering the circumstances. Harry found this strangely comforting, despite his nervousness.

Still, he found himself unable to answer any of their questions. He tried to compose his mind and figure out what to say to sway their suspicions.

"Okay," Hermione said, directing her comment at everyone in the compartment, "why don't we shut this door and then ask one question at a time?"

Ginny got up wordlessly and closed the compartment door, glancing around for a moment before she did so.

"I wonder where Luna is," she said. "The train is about to leave soon."

"She'll show up when she shows up," said Neville.

Ginny nodded and sat back down again, still almost uncomfortably close to Harry. Harry fidgeted but didn't try to shift, knowing he'd just run into Hermione if he tried.

This was going to be awkward.

"Right," began Ron, trying to sound firm, but Hermione interrupted him, taking over.

"First things first," she said seriously, "where were you?"

Harry was silent. What could he say? He shook his head and pressed his lips together.

"You're not going to tell us?" Ron asked, sounding completely disbelieving.

Harry hesitantly shook his head 'no'.

"But we tell each other everything!" His best friend exclaimed.

Harry bit his lip and felt guilt well up.

"Harry, why not? Did something bad happen? Were you kidnapped?" Hermione's face peered anxiously into his own, and Harry had to lean back slightly, almost into Ginny, to avoid the close proximity.

"I just can't, Hermione. I'm sorry. And I wasn't kidnapped. Don't worry, guys," he turned to address everyone as a whole, "nothing bad happened. It had nothing to do with Voldemort so you don't need to worry."

"So what? It's just some big secret?" Ginny demanded crossly.

Harry faced her and looked apologetic. "Yeah, look, I said I was sorry. It's not something I can help, okay? I've been...forbidden from saying anything."

"But we won't tell anyone, will we guys?" Said Ron.

Everyone nodded their heads.

"Although the Order was really worried about you, Harry," murmured Neville.

Harry sighed. The guilt just kept building up. He tried to distract them. "What about everyone else? I bet the Daily Prophet went crazy over my disappearance."

"No one knew. The Order kept it under wraps," sniffed Hermione, who had crossed her arms over her chest. "And you do realise you have an accent, right? I bet I can figure out where you were."

Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. On one hand she would never be able to place his accent, but on the other, he had an _accent_. Great. "Yeah, good luck with that, Hermione."

"Which is strange," continued Hermione as if she hadn't heard him, "because being gone for only two months shouldn't give you an accent like this. At the very least, after being back in England, you should have reverted anyway."

"Says who?" Harry countered defensively, hating that she was so logical. Moreover, why did she even have to notice such small details in the first place.

"What do you guys think?" Mused Hermione. "It's not Asian. Not Romantic either. Perhaps one of the Scandanavian countries?" She rounded on him. "Were you in Sweden or Finland, Harry?"

Before he was forced to deny this, someone knocked on the door and it slid open. Mere seconds later the train let out a loud whistle and started to chug. Harry made the mistake of glancing outside the window, only to wince at the bright flashes of magic rippled over the metal and powered the train. It was like looking at an acid trip gone wrong - or so he'd heard.

Blinking spots from his vision, he looked at the blond haired girl standing dreamily in the doorway.

"Hello," said Luna pleasantly. "I hope you all had lovely summers."

"Hi, Luna," said Neville with a grin.

"Luna," muttered Hermione exasperatedly, "we saw each other plenty of times over the summer. No need to ask."

Luna didn't seem to notice the rebuke. She closed the compartment door and sat down next to Neville. "Hello, Harry, how was your summer? I see you've got your eyes fixed."

Harry blinked the last few spots away and managed a, "Fine, and you?"

"Oh, it was wonderful, thank you. Very exciting when you disappeared, you know. Then Papa and I went hunting Guanguan beasts in eastern Europe."

Harry blinked again, this time not because he was seeing floating blobs of psychedelic colours. "Oh, uh, that's nice."

"You shouldn't worry us like that, Harry," said Luna, for once sounding stern and matronly.

Harry's guilt-o-meter went up another notch.

"Sorry."

Luna smiled. "That's all right. Next time leave a note though, so we know you're okay."

Harry almost laughed, and had to bite his lip instead. He saw Hermione rolling her eyes to his right and Ginny trying to smother her own laughter to his left. Ron looked rather incredulous and Neville seemed to be the only one who looked like he was humouring Luna, because he nodded his head in agreement.

So Harry nodded solemnly and said, "Okay, next time I'll leave a note."

"Okay, well, Harry, where were we? I really think you need to tell us where you were this summer. I know the Professor won't take no for an answer! And where on earth did you get your eyes fixed and why?"

Harry tried to turn his head to regard his bushy-haired friend, but then realised that that made him have to stare at her face surrounded by the fluctuating scarlet and purple flashes streaming through the window. It was quite disconcerting and made it hard to actually focus on her face.

Suddenly, he realised just why his parents had been able to live in a 'skin' while they went to Hogwarts. A glamour charm was all very well and good, but when you were surrounded by so much loud and glitzy magic, anything less than a skin caused immense distraction and dizziness.

Harry almost groaned at the realisation that he was most likely screwed. Maybe he could buy a pair of sunglasses. Or charm his eyes to block out the glittery magic.

Actually, that was probably a bad idea.

"Harry? Are you okay? You're squinting. Maybe they didn't do such a good job." Hermione waved a hand in front of his face.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. It's okay. I, uh, just felt like getting them fixed you know?"

"But it's so expensive," said Hermione, "and I hear it's like being put under the Cruciatus, or worse!"

"It is?" He asked, morbidly curious.

She stared at him flatly.

"Oh, uh, I mean, yeah, I know that but I thought it might help me with…duelling!" When her stare didn't waver, he added meekly, "And it hurt - a lot, but, uh...it was worth it."

She gave him one last strange look and Harry tried to look completely innocent, smoothing down his hair yet again to cover his scar - it had become a nervous habit. Fortunately, no one noticed the strands rearranging themselves on their own.

"Okay, whatever mate, but you gotta tell us _something_ of what happened!" Ron interjected, leaning forward earnestly.

Harry finally groaned out loud. Loudly.

"Look. Guys," he started seriously, "I can't tell you _anything_. Not who, what, when, where, why, or even how. I just _can't_. I can't even tell you _why_ I can't, just that it's pretty much impossible. So please stop asking me to do something I can't do. I hate that I can't tell you and it only makes me feel bad when you keep guilt tripping me like this." He finished his small speech by sweeping a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. Then he slumped against the seat and sighed loudly.

Hopefully they'd take a hint.

He looked around at his best friends - his family - and saw that Neville was looking slightly ashamed and sending him apologetic looks. Hermione was looking pensive and Ron just looked a little surly and annoyed. Ginny patted his shoulder and said, "Okay, Harry. We're sorry. But you have to understand as well what we went through this summer. Maybe you _should_ do as Luna said and leave a note next time, okay?"

Harry nodded and grinned at her in thanks. Luna smiled at Ginny too and then pulled a tiny book out of her dress pocket and held it up to her face, as if she could read the tiny handwriting by squinting like she was doing.

"Harry," said Hermione slowly and Harry was forced to try and look at her despite the psychedelic colours whirling past her head. "When you said you 'can't' did you mean you literally _can not_, or that you _won't_." She looked at him meaningfully.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what she was getting at but said, "Can't."

Hermione nodded, still thoughtful. "I see," she said.

"See? What do you see?" Ron demanded.

"Don't you see, Ron?" Said Hermione, her voice brightening slightly as whatever realisation had hit her was imparted upon the rest of the compartment. "It's not that Harry doesn't want to tell us, he really would if he could, but he can't! He's sworn not to. It's an Oath."

Realisation seemed to dawn on Ron as well, and though Harry was still as confused as ever, both Ginny and Neville were nodded their heads as well and saying things like "It makes sense" and "Of course."

Shrugging, Harry sat back and was simply grateful that his friends seemed to have accepted his silence and moved on. Now he'd just have to figure out how to dim his vision and he'd be set.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he'd go quite crazy first. He wondered how the elves had made do before leaving the earth to go live in _Elwýn_.

He perked up suddenly. Maybe there was a natural way of blocking the magic sight. Sort of like unfocusing your eyes or something.

Harry glanced around at his friends for a few moments: Ron was busy setting up a game of chess with Ginny, and Neville and Luna were talking about the book Luna was reading. Hermione had a book of her own, decidedly larger and more human sized than the one Luna was attempting to read.

Good, they were all distracted.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He tuned out his friends muttering, the faint sounds from the compartment across from them, and the chugging of the train's engine and the sound of metal wheels on the track. He slipped into a mild form of occulmency - a type of meditation, one of the only things he'd gotten out of Snape's overbearing lessons.

Soon, he was able to concentrate purely on himself and not on anyone around him. Making sure he was centred and prepared, he felt the pulsing magic smothering the Hogwarts Express.

Now, how to tune it out?

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and turned to stare out the window.

The multitude of colour made him dizzy at first and he had to fight not to blink rapidly. Instead, he began to concentrate on making the bright light disappear.

It didn't work.

Eventually he called it quits and sat back with his eyes closed, hoping his newly acquired headache would go away soon. He didn't even want to imagine how bad the situation might have been if he wasn't wearing his glamour charm at the moment. No doubt he would be blinded as well as dizzy.

Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. But he might end up with permanent dancing spots in front of his eyes if he kept staring at such bright colours all the time. It was like looking into the sun - eventually you had to look away or risk damage.

No wonder elvish magic was so different. It was more subtle - it blended in with its surroundings...especially if those surroundings were already bright and glittering.

Still, Harry was determined to have figured things out by the time they got to Hogwarts, or he feared for his sanity.

It was something he couldn't afford to fail at.

So he set to work.

* * *

Somewhere far above him, or maybe in a separate dimension, Fate was laughing her ass off.

At him.

Because it was no use - _he_ was no use. He was completely and utterly useless.

The train began to slow.

Harry's friends chatted and laughed as they prepared themselves to get off.

Harry sat there and wondered how on earth he was going to survive.

"Come on Harry! You've been so quiet. Lighten up, stop worrying," Ginny laughed and then poked him a few times in the shoulder.

Harry blinked up at her, mouth pressed into a fine line. Oh yes, everything was great. Except that he'd somehow managed to make Hermione twice as suspicious as she had been earlier simply by acting _normal_. But of course, his idea of normal now was a far cry from human and he should have realised this before he went around acting like, as Ron so delightfully put it, a poncy-assed pureblooded Lord-in-training.

"Hermione's determined to pick me to pieces. I don't suppose you know how to stop her?" He asked miserably.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Oh stop it, Harry. It's not my fault you're acting strangely, now is it?"

Harry decided not to acknowledge Hermione. They'd entered the station and despite having managed to dim his vision slightly using a bastardised form of Snape's Occulmency he still feared that if he looked out the window and got a glimpse of Hogwarts, that he very well might get a migraine. Or something. Perhaps he was being a tad melodramatic, but it was hard enough remembering to concentrate on filtering out the bright lights on top of trying to act as normal as possible.

So he desperately hoped that Hogwarts' magic was of the more subtle variety, but he'd heard rumours of its many wards and to be fair, it had had over a thousand years to saturate itself in the magic of all the children who had ever passed through its halls. The castle itself _was_ magic it seemed - how else did one explain a room like the Room of Requirement?

So he wasn't really keeping his hopes up, and better to be safe than sorry.

He wondered how elvish warriors prevented this sort of handicap in battle. What if the enemy was a flashy magic user? It took up so much concentration, how could they possibly battle efficiently?

It was an absurd concept that the _Elwý _wouldn't have an easier solution for this, they had solutions for everything and all the time in the world to create ones that didn't already exist.

Maybe it just required a lot of practice until it was second-nature, sort of like air manipulation.

Or maybe he was just going about it the wrong way. Maybe he was trying to use human mind clearing tricks and those no longer worked on him.

"Are you _ignoring_ me?" Hermione demanded suddenly, stepping into his line of sight.

"Hermione," Harry replied wearily, "please. Can't you just let it rest?"

"But..."

Harry glanced out the compartment door, at the students streaming past.

"Please," he repeated.

"Fine," she whispered. "But this isn't over, Harry. We have a right to know. We're worried about you. We just want to help."

"If you want to 'help', then just drop it!" He snapped, getting fed up now. Why couldn't she just _listen_ to him? No one else seemed to have a problem obeying!

Hermione gave him a hurt look and then pushed past him out the door. He exchanged looks with Ron, who just shrugged and left as well.

"Harry."

He glanced to the side slightly - Luna was standing and holding out a pair of rather absurd sunglasses. They were black with blue and green flames running up and down the frames. He stared at them and wondered why on earth Luna would have such flashy shades.

"Um…"

"You were squinting a lot. I heard that the eyes are more sensitive after undergoing correction procedures."

He took them awkwardly, though secretly glad that he wouldn't have to concentrate so hard to block out the lights. "Thanks Luna. I'll give them back, okay?"

Luna smiled dreamily and shook her head. "Keep them as long as you need."

Harry nodded gratefully. Sometimes Luna was the best. He then waited for everyone else to exit before he slipped on Luna's sunglasses. Immediately, the world dimmed and it looked like dusk inside the brightly lit train.

They were good sunglasses, no doubt enchanted.

He followed his friends out of the train, getting plenty of strange looks from his fellow students, although it seemed that most people who didn't know him well didn't recognise him - probably a good thing. The rumours would start eventually, but it was better not to fuel them so early.

Hermione ignored him as they found a thestral drawn carriage, which was fortunately lit with only a dull orange glow, and only acknowledged him with a sour look when he sat across from her.

"You look ridiculous, and I don't know how you can see anything in the dark."

It was clearly an invitation to engage in conversation, but Harry knew he couldn't say anything. He had nothing _to _sayand he couldn't come up with any valid excuses for his disappearance.

Hermione would just have to live with the fact that Harry wouldn't be telling her anything any time soon.

The carriages set off towards the school and Harry sucked in a deep breath. Soon the school would be in view, and he had no doubt it would be absolutely blazing with magic.

Would he be able to block it out? What would he do if he couldn't? There had to be a solution.

Harry closed his eyes behind his shades wearily and waited for the carriages to stop at the entrance to the castle.

The carriages slowed to a halt and Ginny was the first person out of their cramped carriage. Harry heard her feet thump on the ground as she jumped down, then Neville brushed past him and the slight rocking of the carriage followed by a second thump indicated that he'd jumped down as well. Hermione climbed past him and then Harry got up, finally opening his eyes and knowing he would need to act like he wasn't seeing bright flashes and stars everywhere. He ducked his head when he got to the door, but, distracted as he was in his thoughts, forgot to compensate for his extra height and ended up clipping his forehead.

"Ow…"

"Whoa mate, watch it there." Ron steadied him from behind and Harry mumbled a thanks before neatly jumping out, landing silently on cat feet.

He wasn't looking at Hogwarts directly but the edges of his vision were consumed by a swirling vortex of glittering colours. Harry had to force himself not to blink. It was really playing havoc with his sense of balance. It was complete vertigo. Even as dulled as it was, the colours were still _there_.

"Come on guys, lets go get seats before the sorting starts," said Neville cheerfully.

Harry kept his head down, feeling people's eyes on him with every step. What were they staring at? His glasses? The height? What?

When he eventually looked up, he nearly gasped.

Everything was a kaleidoscope of colour. It seemed that every inch of Hogwarts was simply saturated with magic, glittering in the very stones and shining from the windows. If he wasn't already blocking his senses thrice-fold, he imagined he'd be quite blinded. He nearly stumbled into Ginny, but caught himself in time, reflexes halting him moments before impact.

Ginny turned and jumped to see him standing so close. "Come on, Harry," Her fright morphed into concern. He tried to make himself look normal and gave her a small smile.

He also tried to increase his focus on his eyes. He wanted it to be like before, when he was just seeing almost invisible glimmers of magic, like in the elven realm.

"Okay, lets go get seats," he said.

They squeezed their way past other students as his mind began to run through potential options to his dilemma. He needed to sort it out soon or he wouldn't be able to concentrate in class. Maybe once he was up in Gryffindor Tower, he could work on trying to solve his problem using a different method. Or meditate a _lot._

Of course, it figured that he'd have other things to worry about.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting really, but he shouldn't have been too surprised to find a certain greasy-haired professor looming over him like a bat out of hell less than a minute after he'd stepped inside the entrance hall.

Snape had an uncanny talent for causing Harry misery like that.

"Well, well, our illustrious _hero_ returns."

_Well, shit_, Harry thought. _It just _had_ to be Snape, didn't it?_

Somewhere Fate laughed.

* * *

**AN: **Speaking of fate, it's got to be fate that when I said I'd update at the end of the week, life threw a curve ball at me and suddenly, BAM, I had two essays to write (in Japanese, just kill me now please, k, thanks) in two days a 5 minute speech to write and memorise in three days, work at the stables in the pouring (and I mean absolutely PISSING) rain which then lead to me becoming somewhat ill, and to top it all off, NaNoWriMo and studying for Mid-Terms (last friday and this tues. joy.), pretty much had me tied. Just woke up from a 16 hour long 'nap' and feeling a bit better (not to mention I called in sick to the stables, ah well...a day without shoveling horse shit, can't argue with that) so I managed to do a last minute extra beta-check on this and get it up.

Thanks a lot for the reviews and comments, etc...I'd comment more on them, but I've really got to study (got about 20 grammar points and 200 kanji compounds to learn as best I can by tomorrow mid-day) and I also need to hit the 50k mark on NaNo by midnight (i'm currently at 49k, but 3 days and 10k behind schedule, eep!) so I'll have to leave the questions and answer session for a bit longer. Sorry bout that folks. In any case, enjoy the reunion chapter! Finally, Harry puts his dismal acting and lying skills to the test, attempts to fit back in with life at Hogwarts (and that doesn't seem to be going well, now does it?), discovers a few *ahem* _problems, _and gets waylaid by Snape. Which can't be good. Poor Harry.

To find out what happens next, all you need to do is click that lovely little button right down there *points below* and tell me what you think!

Heh, please? It'd make my day!

Again, sorry bout the late update and thank you SO much to all who reviewed and especially to those who left interesting comments and feedback! :]

K, gotta run!

xoxRia


	17. An Unsatisfactory Meeting

_Edited as of 13/02/10_

**Chapter 17:  
**

Harry tried not to squirm, but it was rather difficult when he had two of the severest professors looming over him and a certain be-speckled headmaster staring at him gravely from across his desk.

It also didn't help when everything on said desk insisted on shining and sparkling like no tomorrow. Or that he could smell the sickly sweet scent of all Dumbledore's sweets cloying his nose.

Not to mention all the disgusting smells emanating from his least favourite teacher. He didn't ever want to know what they originated from.

Something pickled and potions related, no doubt.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and then unclasped his hands only long enough to reach across his desk and pop a lemon drop into his mouth before saying, "Perhaps you would like to take off those sunglasses, Mr. Potter? As stylish as they are, they look to be rather unneeded at the moment."

Harry thought that maybe it was a not-so-subtle hint to take off the glasses, perhaps even so Dumbledore could try to _legilimens_ him, but he wasn't buying it either way.

"No thanks," he replied. "The glasses are fine."

"Ah."

Harry didn't say anything further. Dumbledore was forced to continue his soon to become interrogation.

"Well, it's good to see you back here my boy, safe and unharmed."

Harry said thanks.

More awkward silence followed.

He really wished his friends had been allowed to come with him, but they were all at the feast. Dumbledore had excused himself, as well as his deputy, as soon as the sorting was over and Harry lamented the fact that he hadn't even managed to step one foot inside the great hall this year.

This whole 'missing the sorting' routine seemed to have become tradition.

"Well, then," began Dumbledore, sounding rather awkward for a man usually in impeccable control, "why don't we just cut to the chase?"

Harry shrugged slightly. 'Cutting to the chase' as the Headmaster put it wasn't going to make the outcome any different.

He wasn't saying anything. No matter what. He'd protect his friends _and_ his people. The knowledge of where he'd been that summer wasn't crucial to the war either, not unless he could convince the _Elwý _to fight in it. And if that day ever came, well then, hell would probably have frozen over.

"Where were you Harry?" Asked Dumbledore seriously. "Who took you? Or rather, _what_ took you?"

Harry was silent. What could he say?

"Potter?" Snape leaned over him and Harry couldn't help wrinkling his nose and leaning away. Snape's eyes caught the movement and anger burned fiercely in their black depths.

Harry faced Dumbledore again and took a deep breath (belatedly realising that probably wasn't a good idea when Snape's foul stench filled his lungs). _Well, here goes_, he thought. "I can't answer you."

The Headmaster's eyes widened almost imperceptibly and next to him Snape let out a snarl.

"Mr. Potter," said McGonagall sternly from above him, "this is no time for games. This is very important information."

Harry squared his shoulders and repeated, "I can't tell you."

"Potter!" Snarled Snape.

"Mr. Potter!" Exclaimed his Head of House in tandem.

Dumbledore held up a hand and made a motion for silence. "Wait a minute Minerva, Severus. Perhaps Mr. Potter here has a valid explanation as to why he cannot tell us."

Harry nodded. Yes, there was a perfectly valid explanation...he just couldn't tell them what it was. "I just can't."

Dumbledore's eyebrows creased in a frown and he asked slowly, "Is there anything you _can_ tell us then, Harry?"

Harry thought for a moment.

"Well," he muttered, hoping that if he just cooperated as much as he could now that they wouldn't try to dig much deeper (though that was probably asking for too much), "I can tell you that it had nothing to do with Voldemort. It's got nothing to do with school, or any of my friends, or you."

Dumbledore's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline.

"Then what, pray tell, my dear boy, _does_ it have to do with?"

Harry bit his lip. Should he say? Would it reveal anything if he said something? Would the Order try to interrogate the Dursleys again?

No. Petunia had already managed to deal with that four times. He didn't think it would matter.

"My family," he finally muttered.

"Your...family." Repeated Dumbledore, clearly not having expected such an answer.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"And you cannot tell us anything beyond that?"

"No."

"Because you cannot or you won't?"

Only a brief hesitation. "Cannot."

"I see. Very well, Mr. Potter." The Headmaster leaned back in his chair, looking pensive. "You may go." Harry stood quickly, wondering if the feast was over yet. "But may I suggest you get something to eat from the kitchens?" The man's blue eyes twinkled. "I'm sure the elves would be all too happy to help."

Harry stiffened. He couldn't help it. The mention of "elves" had had him instantly thinking of the _Elwý. _

Harry pulled open the door to leave and McGonagall stopped him.

"The password to the tower is _Golden_ _Griffin_."

Harry nodded and then left. He went half way down the stairs and then something made him stop. He stood still and his ears picked up the soft voices of the two professors and the headmaster discussing, well, _him_.

He turned all his attention to the room up the stairs and listened. The voices grew louder.

"-believe you let him go like that Headmaster!" That was the voice of Snape.

"Severus, my dear boy, Harry was quite set on not telling us anything. I don't believe we would have got anything further from him. We're going to have watch him closely instead."

McGonagall's voice spoke up. "But what do you think could have happened to him, Albus?"

"Ah, so you noticed it too, did you, Minerva?"

"It wasn't hard to miss," Snape said dryly. His voice even sounded like it was sneering.

Harry wouldn't put it past the man.

"And what did _you_ notice, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Many things," said Snape's voice. "For one, Potter holds himself differently. He doesn't slouch anymore. He's more like his damned father, puffing up and acting proud. He's taller too, and his skin is more tanned. I would guess that wherever he was, he was able to go outside frequently."

"Thank Merlin," sighed McGonagall. "That means he wasn't locked inside like a prisoner. But Severus," she continued in a mildly rebuking tone, "it's not _just_ his father. I'm sure you can see it too - his mother's grace. It's uncanny."

"Indeed," murmured Dumbledore.

"_Also_," continued Snape acidly at having been interrupted, "his voice is strange. It's as if he has an accent, but I cannot place it. It is quite possible he was taken out of the country." Harry winced and firmly told himself to pay more attention to how he spoke. Hopefully though, it would fade given some time. "And the most obvious were those ridiculous sunglasses. Unless they were prescription glasses, I imagine Potter wouldn't have been able to see a thing. And if they were, why such dark shades? He is inside. It is like he is trying to hide something."

"He knows about Legimancy, Severus. Perhaps he was afraid one of us would _Legilimens_ him."

Which had been precisely his fear. Harry rolled his eyes.

Snape made a snorting noise. "It might have been better if we had. But there is one last thing Headmaster, that I'm not sure even you noticed."

"Oh?"

"Did you see his clothes?"

"Hogwarts robes in Gryffindor colours, Severus. Nothing strange there."

"Then you did not notice." Snape sounded almost pleased. "They're new_. _And am I the only one who remembers that we asked all the store clerks in Diagon Alley to keep an eye out for Potter and to tell us if he came in to get his school supplies?"

"Oh!" Gasped McGonagall. "And Harry never went at all. I remember because Tonks checked only yesterday when she went to collect extra textbooks, just in case he showed up like his aunt claimed he would." Her voice adopted a sour tone. "I've never liked that woman. I thought she was lying...and yet here he is. But that still doesn't explain how he has new school robes."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, now sounding perplexed as well.

"It is possible he got them made by another tailor," pointed out Snape.

"That is true, Severus."

"So we do what? Contact every tailor in England?" McGonagall sounded extremely sceptical about this plan of action.

"More like the whole world," said Snape with a snarl. "That accent could have indicated any non-English speaking country. It was extremely vague."

"We can't do that. It's impossible."

"No, we cannot," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "But we should keep an ear out, just in case there is any news reporting that the Boy-Who-Lived visited another country."

Harry almost smirked. They would never find out that way. _Elwýn _wasn't in any realm that they could contact or find out about. At least he was safe from that.

"So, all we know is that Potter was out of the country on supposed family business. He wasn't kidnapped and yet he disappeared from all our radars and those infernal relatives of his aren't saying anything. And whoever took him left behind a strange magical signature never before seen. This is absurd."

"Yes. You bring up some very valid points Severus." Dumbledore sounded tired and old.

"Of course I do," said Snape irritably.

"Well, perhaps we should call a meeting over this new information and discuss it as a group. Have a few more fresh perspectives. But for now I believe we all need to prepare for classes tomorrow. Severus, if I'm not mistaken you have third year Gryffindors and Slytherins first thing tomorrow morning, do you not?"

Harry could almost see Snape's face twist into a murderous scowl in his mind's eye. He heard Snape say acidly, "Indeed."

"And you, Minerva?"

"NEWT Transfiguration. I'll have Potter," sniffed McGonagall. She sounded mildly smug.

"Then do keep an eye on him, won't you?"

"Of course, Albus."

Sensing the conversation was all but over, Harry quickly dashed down the remaining steps and out the gargoyle entryway, leaping the last few. Landing softly, he didn't stop running until he had made it around a corner and out of sight, and then he slowed and walked briskly down to the kitchens. He had a lot to think about. Clearly he hadn't been as careful as he could have been.

He never should have opened his mouth. Any information was still information that would eventually lead to his secret.

He sped up, trying to get to the kitchens as quickly as possible so he could get back to his friends and they could discuss this latest development. No doubt Hermione would have some great ideas about how to avoid detection and throw the teachers off the scent and-

Harry came to an abrupt halt.

How _stupid_ was he?

He couldn't say anything to his friends. Why, if he hadn't realised it, he might have spilled the whole thing! He felt like slapping himself.

He needed to be careful; never let his guard down. And whatever happened, he couldn't let anything slip.

This wasn't just about keeping secrets from his friends, it was about keeping them _alive_. He had absolutely no doubt in his mind that if the Black Guard ever suspected any humans of knowing about the elves, that they would assassinate them immediately on order of the King and Queen - and not even Harry, for all supposed power, would be able to stop them. Anyone who knew would be taken out one by one. For all their seeming benevolence, he had learned over his six month sojourn in the land of _Elwýn_ that the _Elwý_ were fierce protectors of their secrets and some of the biggest hypocrites he had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Unless his grandparents ever decided to reveal their people to the human realm, it would be a cold day in hell before he ever let anything slip. And since that would never happen, he'd just have to keep the secret unto his dying days.

That, and he just couldn't even begin to picture their reactions. He wasn't _human_. What if they couldn't accept that?

Realising he'd managed to reach the kitchen during his musings, Harry eyed the painting and found the brightest spot of magic on the canvas, knowing it was the pear. He reached out and tickled the spot, pulling the portrait open and stepping through into the pleasantly warm atmosphere-

-only to be almost immediately attacked from all sides by over eager elves.

House elves. Not _Elwý_. He had to make the extra distinction in his mind now.

"Master Harry Potter Sir! How can we's be helping Master Harry Potter Sir?"

"Harry Potter! It's Mister Harry Potter! Dobby is so happy Harry Potter Sir came to see him!"

Harry really wished he had some earplugs against the shrill, high pitched voices of his friend and the rest of his kin. He wondered how anyone could ever had labelled House Elves and _Elwý_ in the same category. They were like the sun and moon, north and south; complete polar opposites.

"Hi, Dobby," Harry finally managed to get out over the ringing in his ear. "Can you keep it down please?"

A hush immediately fell across the gathered elves and they all stared up at him expectantly.

"Um…" He should have been used to these sorts of situations, especially after that damn crowning-of-the-heir ceremony.

"Mister Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry jerked his head down and smiled sheepishly at Dobby.

"Sorry, Dobby. Um, could I have some dinner please? I missed the feast."

Immediately several elves scurried off while the rest began to try and usher him over to one of the long tables which were replicas of the house tables a floor above them. Dobby led the entire procession and by the time Harry had been properly seated, many dishes of food had appeared in front of him, as well as an empty plate to fill.

He thanked the elves, which caused many of them to startle, and dug in.

"Does Harry Potter Sir need anything else?" Asked Dobby anxiously, half prepared to go darting off to retrieve whatever he might need.

"Nah, I'm good Dobby, thanks."

Dobby beamed.

Harry spooned some potatoes onto his plate to finish his ensemble and then pointed to the seat across from him with the serving spoon.

"You want to sit?" He asked.

Dobby's eyes filled with tears and he began to loudly proclaim how great and kind Harry was while he shuffled over to the bench to clamber up.

Harry could have hit himself. He'd forgotten how emotional Dobby could get when someone was kind to him. And now his ears were paying the price.

He reached up to rub one with a sigh. It felt almost strange to rub the short, rounded appendage - almost like touching a stub of some sort.

"How have you been, Dobby?" He asked as he began to eat.

He regretted asking not moments later.

Somehow he figured it was going to be a long dinner.

* * *

"Well?" Was the first thing that greeted him when Harry finally collapsed onto one of Gryffindor's plush couches. He glanced over at Ron and let out a loud sigh.

"Third degree?" Asked Hermione sympathetically, having seemingly forgotten her earlier ire against him.

Harry answered over Ron, Ginny, and Neville's confused looks. "Pretty much." He sighed again and muttered, as if it explained everything, "_Snape_ was there."

"Ew," said Ron, wrinkling his nose.

Harry almost snickered. "My sentiments exactly. And he _stunk_ too."

"Really?" Ron's eyes widened comically. "All that grease stuck in his hair?"

Harry nodded solemnly, though a grin was threatening to break out.

"Oh stop it you two! This is serious."

Harry and Ron sobered up slightly and Hermione gave them both an exasperated look.

"They have a point though," said Neville, sharing a small grin as well.

Considering Neville's past fears concerning Snape, Hermione didn't have the to heart to scold him as well and instead changed the subject.

"Did they try to force you?"

Harry scowled and said, "It depends how you see it. Do you view being sneaky and going behind my back to try and find out, not to mention entertaining the idea of legimancy, 'forcing'?"

Hermione put a hand on his arm, which made his skin tingle. "Oh, Harry. Don't you know they're only looking out for your well being? We all are."

Okay, so maybe she hadn't quite forgotten. Harry pulled his arm away and glared at his hands. "It's an invasion of privacy."

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived, mate, privacy shouldn't even be in your vocabulary," Ron joked.

"Not funny Ron."

"Right, right, sorry."

"They only have your safety in mind you know, so you can't be too mad at them. But still…" Ginny trailed off and tried to smile encouragingly at him.

Harry put his head back against the couch and tried not to think about how the course fabric was tickling his neck. He closed his eyes and blocked out the shine of the stones, most of which were thankfully covered by the tapestries and portraits, whose magic was far subtler.

"Harry?"

"Mmhm. What Neville?"

"When are you going to take those glasses off? I mean, why do you even need them? Surely, you can't see very well in this light."

Harry reopened his eyes to stare at the expectant faces of his friends. Great. Yet another thing he would have to lie about and conceal. Fortunately Luna had already given him the perfect excuse.

"I, uh, it's the fixing process. I did it really recently, and my eyes sometimes get a little sensitive to light. Don't worry, it'll go away soon." He just hoped this was true and that Hermione didn't know any better.

Hermione thankfully didn't say anything, but she did stare at him intensely for a moment or two. Harry tried not to gulp and look guilty.

He thought that maybe it would have been best if he hadn't said anything.

"Oh, okay. Well, I hope you get better soon then," said Neville.

"Yeah, and no more glasses," grinned Ron, then he winked. "The girls'll love that."

Ginny and Hermione groaned while Harry laughed. Yeah, that was just what he needed; female attention.

Still, hopefully he'd figure out the eye situation by the morning or he was going to have one hell of a time during classes. It was like Snape and his stupid Occulmency all over again.

Speaking of which...he didn't have time to be sitting here, convincingly lying to his friends - he should be upstairs on his bed trying to figure out a way to suppress his magic sight in a manner that allowed him to concentrate on other things as well.

He let a large yawn escape him.

"I dunno about you guys, but I'm pretty tired. I'm gonna go to bed, okay?"

"Well...okay…" said Ginny, looking at him somewhat strangely.

Harry supposed it would seem rather strange of him to want to go to bed at merely eight thirty in the evening. Nevertheless, he managed to excuse himself and climbed the stairs slowly to his tower room.

Once inside, he climbed onto his bed and drew the hangings across so he was completely blocked. As soon as he did so, he collapsed back onto his sheets and pulled off the sunglasses with a sigh. Then, he cast a few silencing charms and sticking charms to make sure he wouldn't be disturbed - and then it hit him.

His own magic didn't blind him. In fact, all he could see was a barely visible glow. The question was, _why_?

Pulling his elvish trunk out of his pocket, he enlarged it and watched his magic carefully. Still only the faintest glow. He wondered if that was because he was elven or if it was because of something else. He needed to check his magic books.

Harry settled himself cross-legged on his bed and flicked the latch on his trunk with a puff of air. It was an internal latch, which meant that only an elf with magical ability would be able to open it. He let his power rummage through the trunk and pull out his shrunken notebooks from his magic lessons. They were a hodgepodge of elven runes, writing, and English. He knew that no one but himself (and probably Quenah) would ever be able to understand them.

Plus, it helped to have coded notes - that way no one would figure out that he had been researching..._certain_...spells.

"_Lumos_," he muttered, despite not truly needing the light. Then he hung his wand in the air and adjusted it to point at his notes.

He flipped to the beginning and started to read.

As he read he began to remember the voices of his teachers as they taught him. Soon, he was just flipping through the book and scanning each page - memory taking care of the rest. he probably got through it in half an hour, but no answers popped out at him. He felt like he was missing something. Something important.

Frowning, he pulled out his theory book instead and stared at the first few pages, brows furrowed. He remembered his origin of magic lessons, and he knew he probably understood the way magic worked now better than any of his year mates.

Magic, Harry had learned, was a single, invisible entity. It was neither Light nor Dark, nor specific to any one creature. Magic simply took on the form of whatever was channelling it. So really it depended on the creature's ability to use it and in what form.

Theoretically, he had been taught, a human could use some elvish magics if they knew the proper methods and were able to focus the magic into the right shape and form. Then his teacher had laughed and said that that wouldn't happen in a million years. The human would have to think outside the box, be able to view the world like an _Elwý, _which, unless perhaps brought up _Elwý, _was virtually impossible.

Something was niggling at the back of his mind. Something else his teacher had talked about that lesson. He flipped through the pages and tried to remember. On the third page he spotted a doodle of what appeared to be a bunch of stick-figure elves battling against some sort of stick-monster. Harry didn't stop to admire his non-existent art skills - the answer had hit him.

Or at least he hoped it had.

He remembered he had asked how the _Elwý_ had used their magic in battle. For example, what kinds of advantages they had over their opponents. He had received a long lecture on that, and then not two weeks later, virtually the same one from Master Melcacrist as well (and no amount of convincing could prevent the elf from skipping it over).

One thing stood out to him now though. Both his magic teacher and Melcacrist had briefly mentioned using their ability to see magic to their advantage, so they could see enemy spells and enchantments. Then, his teacher said that usually enemy magic wasn't as subtle as elven magic and so when going into magical battle, an elf had a small spell they used which dimmed magic sight. Unless released by a mental trigger, magic would be virtually invisible, freeing up the warrior's concentration for the battle itself. The spell also had various stages of workability - anything from just a subtle dimming to full on invisibility.

So that was it. That was what he needed to do, but unfortunately, he'd never gotten to that particular lesson. Oh, he'd written down the spell, but hadn't thought much beyond it - after all, he wasn't going into battle. Yet.

But now he had to perform it without knowing exactly how the magic worked.

Oh. Well. It was worth a try. It was much easier than constantly meditating on his vision while trying to hold a conversation.

Grinning in triumph, he flopped back into his pillows and gestured his wand down from the air. He used it to re-shrink his books and put them back in his trunk, which he also re-shrunk.

Before he started, and double checking his curtains just in case - they were stuck firmly...sure people would ask questions, but it was better than being discovered - he slipped off his glamour charm. Taking a deep breath, he felt all the tension flow out of his shoulders and his lungs de-constrict.

He wondered briefly if this was what it felt like to wear a corset. If so, he felt complete sympathy for women.

Then he closed his eyes and concentrated. Hopefully it wouldn't take too many tries to get it right. And hopefully he wouldn't do anything horrible to himself in the process of messing up. At least, nothing irreversible.

Well. That was probably too much to ask.

And now he'd probably just jinxed himself.

Great.

* * *

**_Edit: Changed Snape and McGonagall's classes to match schedule of HBP (13/02/10)_**

**AN: **Well, this chapter would have been up last night except...I went to Fujikyu Highland theme park (which, while small, has like 3 Guiness world record rollar coasters...Eejyanaika was freaking AMAZING XD) and ate a lot of shit, which, combined with my penchant for horrible car sickness and the 3 hour long traffic jam on the way back to Tokyo, meant that by the time I got back at 10ish I was feeling rather ill and tired so I just collapsed in bed.

So I'm uploading the chapter today instead.

Anyway, thank you so so much for the wonderful feedback for last chapter! A few people in particular had questions about Elwyn/Harry's situation, so I'd like to clear up a few things here:

**About James: **I'd _thought _I'd vaguely explained this in one of the previous chapters, but maybe it never made it into the conversations between Harry and Quenah...I can't remember. Or perhaps that information is revealed later. Hm, but just a bit of background is okay, so: James is Elwy, naturally, or Harry wouldn't be Crown Prince, and Lily would have been disowned like Petunia. James' family was a VERY high-ranking Upper House family who sent their son off after the Princess with the King and Queen's permission in hopes that he would be able to woo the princess and make a good match between them. Of course, neither set of parents ever counted on James being the one to fall in love and not having it be the other way around, or that James would eventually come to love the human world and his human friends and refuse to return. Which is exactly what happened. Oh, and if anyone's wondering, yes, Harry does have paternal grandparents and other relatives, and I must admit I forgot to mention them (and since this is fanfiction and not a real book, I can be forgiven for plot holes, right? ^^;), so I'll just mention it now: After Lily and James ran off, the King and Queen, being absolutely furious, took out their anger on James' family and banished them to the far country-side with the excuse that it was James' bad influence that caused Lily to turn rogue. Furthermore, no one speaks of it because it's a bit of a sore point. After Lily and James died, tempers cooled and no one wanted to blame James OR Lily because both were being mourned too much - but James' family remained far away, angry at the King and Queen and no longer wishing to live in the capital.

Right. Phew. That's a lot of background. Again, so sorry I neglected James' side of things. That was a very big faux pas on my part. **begs forgiveness**

**About Harry's social freedom: **A reviewer asked after Harry's apparent initial social freedom in interacting with his peers and wondered why the King and Queen didn't simply control his 'friends' from the start. Well, the King and Queen initially concern themselves with Harry's 'skin' removal, and place all teaching into Quenah and Harry's tutors' hands. After the removal of the 'skin' they have the ball and coronation to worry about as well as running the country and again leave things up to Quenah. Quenah, of course, has a soft spot for Harry and lets him get away with murder. Also, the King and Queen tend not to think in terms of days or weeks, but rather years (with the exception of Harry's 'skin' and induction into elvish society), and so don't really consider integrating Harry into the proper social circles within the first few weeks or months to be of pressing importance: after all, that can wait until he's learned to act like a proper elf first. They didn't count on Harry forming friendships so early and you'll note that during the ball and afterwards, they begin to actually concern themselves with this, but they still think in terms of centuries and the fact that Harry is merely 15 and no where _near_ considered an adult, so for the moment he's just 'fooling around'.

**Romance: **Last chapter someone asked if Harry will have a romantic pairing. To be honest, and I might have mentioned this before, this story will NOT focus much on romance. It might pop up here and there but it'll just be a side thing. So it won't really affect the plot line much.

**Length of Fic: **o_O erm...can I get back to you on that one?

**Harry's new attitude: **Especially towards humans. One person I think was a bit concerned about this. I'll just say that it's not that Harry is insulting humans now or even hating them, he just finds being around certain human things/aspects uncomfortable. For example, I love dogs, I think they're adorable, but I can't stand the smell. I think they smell horrible (no offense to anyone who has a dog) and I just can't see how people could let their dogs lick their faces and things like that. Makes me shudder just thinking about it. But that doesn't mean I don't like dogs. I just try not to breathe too deeply around them. :P So sort of the same concept. Harry's just discovering things about humans he never noticed before and isn't quite sure what to think...or in Snape's case: he knows exactly what to think it's it's not anything flattering. XD

**One last thing: **One person really, really wanted more information on Elwyn and its political structure, social structure, foreign relations within the realm they made their home, etc...I'm just going to say that more things will be revealed throughout the story and eventually, when this monstrosity of a fic is finished (because it's looking to be pretty epic) if there are still unanswered questions, I'm sure I can make a sort of history guide to Elwyn, for anyone interested. :]

Ok, wow, hope this answers any questions people might have had, and please don't hesitate to ask more and I'll tell you the answers if they don't reveal anything ahead of time :)

Please review and let me know what you think, especially what you think about Harry and Dumbledore's first meeting together after the events of the summer. Or just any random thoughts or things in general. Spotted a plot hole? Lemme know! And so on and so forth.

Also, have the next chapter mostly done (one more scene to write) but with NaNoWriMo fast reaching the end and me only at 62,000 words with only a week left to write 40,000 words...well...might have to wait till after December 6th for the next update. (Dec. 6th is the date of my huge exam). Sorry!

But reviews are always inspiring, I'll give you that. Sometimes reading a review will make me want to drop everything and write a few more sentences or even pages. So...it never hurts to review! **wink wink**

(Yep, shameless hinting there)

xoxRia


	18. The Ancients' Runes

**Chapter 18:  
**

The next morning, 2 September, turned out to be the singularly worst morning of Harry's Hogwarts career - if only because he received news possibly more horrifying than anything he'd previously thought possible.

When Dumbledore had asked Snape the night before to keep an 'eye' on Harry, Harry had simply presumed that his Potions classes were going to be more stifling than usual. Then, when instead his schedule stated they had DADA first instead of Potions, he again assumed that Dumbledore had made some last minute adjustments and that he wouldn't, in fact, have to deal with Snape's acerbic countenance until well after lunch.

Wrong.

Harry had never been more positively horrified than when they walked into the usual DADA classroom to see _Snape_ standing at the head.

His day had rapidly gone downhill from there. Not only had Snape apparently finally achieved the position he'd coveted since the dawn of time, but Harry suspected that Dumbledore might have lost just a few more marbles than was healthy for even an insane man - because Snape teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts was like asking for a disaster of epic proportions to occur.

Which, of course, it did, almost immediately.

When Harry froze upon seeing Snape at the desk, he did so so abruptly that Ron ran into the back of him. Again, Harry was in such shock that he hadn't registered that perhaps he had stopped just a bit _too_ quickly and had stood just a bit _too _still, and when a weight suddenly hit his back, he automatically clenched his muscles and anchored himself like a deeply rooted tree.

Ron found himself running into a rather solid wall of unyielding flesh. He stumbled back from the obstacle and ran backwards into Hermione, who only barely steadied him, staring at the back of Harry's head with suspicion and surprise.

Snape looked up at the commotion, took in Harry's expression, and promptly smirked. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger, _do_ come in."

Jerking out of his stillness, Harry made his way to a desk robotically, and sat down, staring at Snape at the front of the class in a manner not quite unlike someone staring at a particularly grotesque disfigurement - with equal parts horror and equal parts morbid curiosity.

Because surely, _surely,_ the conclusion which he'd reached was completely incorrect and a very fanciful assumption on his part.

"Where," he croaked, and had to lick his lips. "Where is the new Defence professor?"

"Right here, _Potter_," the Potions Master practically purred, eyes glinting in unconcealed glee.

Harry felt like the world had ended. His fears confirmed. It had to be a joke. It just had to be.

"Very funny, sir," he croaked again.

Snape just smirked, leering at Harry triumphantly from over his large nose.

Harry swallowed, his whole body tensing and muscles thrumming with nervous energy. Oh this was _not_ happening. No, no, no.

But it was happening and it did happen and it was every bit as bad as Harry feared. Because not only did Snape insist on picking on him with immediate effect, but he also invoked unwanted actions from Harry - things like dodging sudden hexes sent his way with a little too much grace and speed, or the way his body and mind kept trying to respond to the attacks during Snape's little 'demonstrations' by flinging the man across the room with a healthy gale of wind - or perhaps immobilising him with a solid barrier of air pressure.

If Hermione wasn't suspicious before, then she certainly was now. Not even Ron or Neville could have missed his odd reactions - let alone Snape, who was looking more and more triumphant by the minute.

When class let out, Harry wasted no time in fleeing - straight down to the dungeons, where he discovered the second reason why this day would go down as one of the worst days in his school career ever. (Barring Voldemort's frequent attempts to do away with him, of course).

The new Potions professor was a man named Horace Slughorn - who had apparently taught at Hogwarts before Snape took up the position and had now returned, according to Hermione. Now, Harry was feeling rather pleased about this, knowing that Snape wouldn't be breathing down his neck constantly - that was, until he stepped inside the classroom and nearly fainted.

The sudden pungent scent of ingredients and mould hit him like a ten tonne freight train to the head and it took every effort not to simply collapse in a heap. Potions in _Elwýn _had never been this bad. Pungent sometimes, yes, but not like this. It was like he was smelling all the culminated scents of every potions ingredient ever to grace the classroom. Perhaps it was simply that the _Elwý _tended to be very clean so scent never lingered, but to Harry it smelt like no one had cleaned _this_ room in over a hundred years.

He staggered to his seat and collapsed into it, eyes unfocused and trying to take shallow breathes through his mouth. Of course, this didn't work, as _Elwý _taste buds were much more heavily connected to scent than human ones. As he took fewer and fewer breaths and felt his lungs begin to restrict, a sense of panic overtook him. It was like he was trapped in an airless room, and he couldn't breath and soon his lungs would burn and his head felt light-

-and then he reacted. A knee jerk reaction that caused a huge gust of wind to come swooping through the dungeon classroom, much to the shock of all present, and bring fresh, clean air to circle around Harry. No longer thinking, only doing, he formed an air bubble around himself with this clean air and refused to let the putrid dungeon air get more than five feet near him.

Of course, the smell didn't go away completely. Particles of air still mingled here and there and brought a much subdued scent to his nose - but he could one again breath and once again function.

"What in Merlin's name just happened?" Exclaimed Ron from next to Harry, looking around bewilderedly.

Harry kept silent.

"Probably just someone's idea of a joke," Hermione sniffed, thankfully, for once, not turning suspicious eyes on Harry. "Anyway, I was saying that Professor Slughorn used to teach here, and I think he probably taught your parents."

Harry grunted.

"Really, Harry, aren't you even the slightest bit interested?"

"A lot of the professors here taught my parents. What's one more?" He replied stiffly.

"Honestly," muttered Hermione under her breath. She turned to Ron and asked, "Is it me or does it smell cleaner in here than usual?"

"Reckon the new teacher did some cleaning," Ron said. "Thank Merlin, too."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Their conversation was cut off when said new professor finally entered the room. Harry tuned out his bumbling around, still irritated at the horrible smell, right up until the old man squeaked out his name in a delighted tone.

"Harry Potter!" He beamed. "I must say, what an honour!" He peered at Harry through his glasses in a manner that reminded Harry of being dissected like one of Snape's potions ingredients.

He shivered.

"Really, I'm very much looking forward to our year together." Slughorn swept his greedy eyes over the rest of the class. "This year of students in particular I admit has me intrigued. I have heard many stories of marvellous feats." His gaze lingered again on Harry and his friends.

Slughorn finished up with roll call and immediately launched into his lesson. In a way, it was far more pleasant than Harry had expected. Slughorn actually gave the students incentive to do their best with positive reinforcement in the form of interesting prizes, rather than keeping with Snape's threatening teaching method. However, it didn't take long for him to realise that the new professor was more than interested in him - and not necessarily in a good way. Slughorn was clearly enamoured of his fame, praising his mediocre potions skills and hovering near his table in a way that made Harry want to hunch his back in defence against his hungry eyes.

All in all, a rather disconcerting lesson.

* * *

Adjusting to life as a human again was one of the strangest experiences Harry had ever had - and that was saying something, considering the things he'd managed to get himself into over the years. But there was nothing like having your life completely turned upside-down and inside out the way his had in the past half a year. But he'd become rather comfortable with who he was now - Prince Araëmel, _Elwý_. And being human again was like asking a previously deaf person to go back to being deaf; like asking someone used to seeing in colour be content to view things in black and white.

It was hard. But he managed. He was nothing if not adaptable.

But he feared that he slipped up here and there. The glances people would sometimes shoot him, the way the teachers all studied him when they thought he wasn't looking - and worst of all, the way Hermione's eyes would bore into the back of his head; the way she would fall silent when he said something he shouldn't have.

Yet despite this, no one ever called him on his oddities. Perhaps they simply attributed them to his time 'abroad' and he sincerely hoped it remained that way. He would have even called the entire thing a resounding succeed when he managed to achieve a partial state of magical sight shielding - if not for his second night back at Hogwarts.

The night when he woke up in a cold sweat, a scream clawing its way up his throat, and visions of Voldemort dancing all too vividly across his mind's eye.

Harry felt sick.

He stumbled from his bed, feet touching the cold stone floor though he barely flinched at the temperature, and grasped the bedpost with strained fingers. He gulped in large breaths of air and counted his heartbeat until it slowed down enough for the pounding in his ears to lessen.

And then he finally allowed himself to review what he had just seen in his dreams.

It had been a vision, there was no mistaking that. But what concerned him was _how_ Voldemort had managed to get into his head - or vice versa. It hadn't happened all summer and now, suddenly, he was having visions again?

Of course, that may have had something to do with the fact that he was in a different dimension for most of the holidays, so perhaps that was why.

But seeing Voldemort's cruel red eyes and pale, death-like visage twisted in a mocking grin once more was enough to make him sick. Even worse, Voldemort had been happy - too happy.

Which is when Harry remembered exactly _why_ Voldemort had been so happy.

He knew about Snape.

Harry was half-way to Dumbledore's office before he even realised it, then cursed himself silently for daring to run full speed down the halls riddled with portraits and possible spies for the Headmaster. He didn't need anyone witnessing his inhuman speed and agility, even with the dark of night cloaking his movements.

But there was really no time. He needed to tell Dumbledore immediately that Voldemort knew about Snape.

Harry slowed down to a more believable speed, though it made him antsy, and continued to pelt down the corridors in nothing but his pyjamas and bare feet. He could feel the gold glamour charm thump against his chest every time he took a step and had to restrain himself from halting its irritating movement. It also took considerable restraint to prevent himself from keeping his clothes flowing in time to his strides, as that would undoubtedly look odd. But he kept his hair out of his eyes, certain none of the portraits would notice that.

He made it to the statue in record time and halted in front of it, eyes narrowed at the unmoving gargoyle. He honestly didn't have time to guess passwords and since it was dark and no one was around, it was a small thing to trace a spell of opening on the gargoyle's forehead and force it to step aside.

Then he bolted up the stairs before they could even begin to move.

He burst into Dumbledore's office in dead silence. Fawkes the phoenix was asleep on his perch, though his feathers ruffled and he stirred and lifted his head at Harry's dramatic entrance and blinked sleepy gold eyes at him. Harry shot the bird a contemplative look, noting the lack of otherwise living presence in the room, and gave Fawkes a quick order, "Go fetch Dumbledore, it's urgent."

But Fawkes just blinked at him once more and then placed his head back under his wing and went still. Harry's lips pressed together in anger, furious at being ignored in such a situation.

But it appeared Fawkes hadn't needed to help after all. Harry heard a whisper of noise and whipped his head around to peer up into the small balcony that held a single door at the back of the office. Dumbledore emerged from behind the door, looking slightly flustered and tying a garishly coloured robe at his waist as he did so.

"Harry…?" He peered at the young man in confusion.

"Professor," Harry exhaled in relief. "I've had a vision."

Dumbledore straightened immediately. "You have?"

Harry didn't waste time mincing words. "Voldemort knows about Snape."

Dumbledore's shock was palatable. Harry could hear the old man's heart rate pick up for a few seconds before he managed to calm himself. He also heard the soft gasp.

"Are you sure?" The Headmaster ventured.

"Positive."

"It is not a false vision that Voldemort might be sending to attempt to trick us into ousting our spy?" Dumbledore asked sternly.

Harry paused at this, frowning in thought. "I don't think so," he said slowly. "I'm pretty sure he had no idea I was there, watching. There were a few Death Eaters there that I haven't seen before, you see. I doubt he would reveal his followers names and faces to me if he was sending me a false vision."

While Harry was reasoning this out, Dumbledore made his way down the small set of stairs set into the stone wall and soon arrived on the same level as his student. He was frowning deeply and staring past Harry, most likely thinking over every possible situation and outcome from Harry's news in his head.

"I see," he murmured to himself while he lit the fire in the hearth with a wave of his hand. He took a pinch of floo powder from a jar on the mantle and tossed it in the flames. They flashed green and Dumbledore's head disappeared for a few moments with a cry of, "Severus Snape, Dungeons!"

Harry waited patiently, still combing through every detail he could remember from his dream - which was surprisingly a lot. Or at least, that's how it seemed compared to the last time he'd had a vision, and he had a feeling what had caused the change.

Harry's attention snapped back to the present situation when he felt (or rather, smelled) a second presence join them in the Headmaster's office. Severus Snape, looking exceedingly disgruntled at being woken, emerged from the floo in a ratty looking black robe and a sneer on his lips. When he spotted Harry, that sneer deepened.

"_What_," began Snape acidly, "is going on?"

"Sit down, both of you," ordered Dumbledore tiredly, moving over to his own chair behind his enormous desk.

"Headmaster-" Snape began again.

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Severus, please. Sit."

Snape sat, looking more and more incensed by the second. Harry too collapsed into one of the chairs provided and waited for the scene to play out according to appropriate Snape and Potter drama.

"Albus, what is the meaning of this?" Snape barked.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, just above his spectacles, and let out out a tired sigh. "Severus, my dear boy, I fear your position as spy may very well have been compromised."

Snape's already tired, sallow complexion immediately drained of any remaining colour. "What?"

"Harry has just come to me with a vision of Voldemort. He knows."

"And how do we know this isn't a plant?" Snape asked the same question Dumbledore had not a moment before.

Dumbledore simply nodded towards Harry and Harry took that as his cue to explain.

Harry folded his hands in his lap calmly, just like he'd been taught, raised his chin, and laid out the facts his mind had just completed organising.

"First of all, I could feel that Voldemort was happy, and in the past, when Voldemort is happy the emotions are sometimes strong enough to trigger a genuine vision. Second, he was holding a meeting in a room with several death eaters I haven't seen before but who I could now identify and expose. If this vision was false, I also doubt he would have allowed me to view as many details as I did - such as the setting, the others involved, and also some of things he mentioned…" Harry trailed off with a frown, remembering exactly what Voldemort had said but wondering if it was truly important.

Dumbledore leaned forward, eyes sparking hungrily. "What did he say, Harry?"

"Well, Voldemort was asking after the state of the Black Inheritance and is particularly interested in the Black Library, though I don't know why. He only mentioned them in passing."

"I see," said Dumbledore gravely. "Was there anything else?"

"Well, I have the faces of three unknown death eaters I can easily identify and the last name of at least one of them, a Spaldnick?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "He owns high shares in the Daily Prophet."

Harry grimaced. Well. That would explain a few things.

He turned to Snape. "Severus, in light of this information, I believe the vision to be real. You must stop acting as spy."

Harry got to watch as Snape's eyes bugged and he spluttered.

"B-but! Headmaster, what about…!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Severus. That is no longer a viable option." He paused and glanced at Harry with a frown. "Unless...Harry, how did Voldemort find out?"

Harry clenched his hands. "He read Snape's mind during the last meeting."

"Impossible," snapped Snape. "My Occlumency has kept him out for years! There is no way he would find out now! If he had, I would already be dead. Potter, you misheard, it must be a different way."

Harry shot the man a sour look. Why did Snape _always_ have to question his competence? How _dare_ he tell Harry what or what he didn't hear! They were Harry's visions, not Snape's!

"He stated plainly to Lucius Malfoy that he saw _easily_ past your barriers," he snapped back at the man, "and that he only spared your life for the moment because he wishes to feed Dumbledore false information. Once he's done that, he's going to kill you painfully and slowly and make an example of you to the rest of his death eaters." He finished with a small twinge of satisfaction when Snape's expression tightened and grew incredibly pinched.

"_Easily_?" Hissed Snape, seeming to ignore the rest of what Harry had said (including the bits about his future grisly demise).

"Easily," Harry mocked.

"Why, you-!"

"Severus!" Dumbledore interrupted sternly. Then he sent a reproachful look Harry's way. "And Harry. Please."

Harry simply sat back, satisfied. Snape had always rubbed him the wrong way, but really, was it too hard to defer to his superior knowledge on a matter Snape had no experience in when it involved the man's very life? It was like the spy _wanted_ to get himself killed.

"Now, Harry, I must ask if you are completely sure. Severus's Occlumency barriers are second to none. Not even I could get information from Severus that he did not wish to give."

Harry twitched at the hidden slight. Of _course_ he was sure. "Yes," he replied irritably.

Dumbledore seemed to age in seconds. He shut his eyes and looked like the world had come crashing down around him that very instant. "Then we are in grave trouble indeed if Voldemort's powers have grown so extensively."

Harry hadn't considered that, and suddenly he wasn't quite so happy about having got one over Snape - not if it meant that Voldemort was growing stronger.

"His power is growing far more exponentially than I had anticipated. I had thought we would have more time," Dumbledore admitted.

"Headmaster," said Snape, "I still believe that I may be of use as a spy. If Voldemort does indeed know, as Potter claims," here he shot Harry a sour look, "then he let me go because he wants to use me. Now that I am aware of this, I might be able to still gather information."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It is too late, my boy. We don't know just how much Voldemort was able to glimpse - and without you even being aware. For all we know, he might have discovered the Prophecy. No, it is too dangerous." He smiled slightly. "Besides, I will not have you risk your life needlessly like that. You are better served alive than dead for all concerned, Severus." There was a hint of mischievousness in his next words and Harry had to smother a snort. "And really Severus, if you insist on acting in such a Gryffindor manner, I might have to revoke your status as Head of Slytherin."

It was clearly a joke, said to lighten the mood, but Snape obviously did not find it half as funny as both Harry and Dumbledore did. Probably because the words rang true - Snape _was_ acting rather Gryffindorish.

If looks could kill, Harry had a feeling Dumbledore would be six feet under and crumbled to dust within seconds.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that, as each individual turned their thoughts inwards. Harry could only guess at what both Dumbledore and Snape were thinking, but he was twitching slightly, anxious to leave the tower and leave both men to ponder the meaning of his vision. Perhaps, in other circumstances, he might have wished to stick around and be let in on all the intelligence in the fight against Voldemort, but at the moment he just really wanted to get away from Snape.

Because honestly, the man perpetually stunk. And unlike most smells, wherein one becomes more used to it as time passes, Harry found himself growing more and more intolerant the longer he stayed in Snape's presence.

"Ah, Harry!" Dumbledore suddenly exclaimed. "I apologise, you seem tired. I won't keep you. We can, of course, discuss your vision - and any you might have in the future - at a later date, but I think it best if you get some sleep. I do believe you have Transfiguration tomorrow, am I correct?"

Harry sat up straighter and nodded. He did indeed have Transfiguration. And he had yet to do any review work. Shit.

"Then don't let me keep you. Off you go now."

Harry inwardly scowled at the slightly condescending way the Headmaster was treating him. Telling him to 'go off to bed like a good boy' as if he was some sort of child. He had never been very good at following orders, but lately especially he was finding it increasingly irritating.

_Perhaps_, Harry mussed to himself as he bid the Headmaster goodnight as politely as he could manage and left the office, _it's because in _Elwýn_ no one ever truly orders me to do something. Even my tutors phrase things as a polite 'request'. _

Well, except for Melcacrist and his grandparents. And occasionally Quenah or his friends if they were feeling daring. But as a general rule of thumb, no one _told_ the Prince what to do - Araëmel told _them_ what to do.

He had become spoilt, he decided with a mild frown as he stopped in one of the corridors to stare out the window at the moonlit grounds below. He could just see the edge of the Forbidden Forest from this angle, and the sight of the tall, dark tress sent a pang of restlessness racing through him.

He'd been trapped behind walls for close to a week now, ever since he'd returned from _Elwýn, _and he found the restriction of stone and wood slightly stifling. With considerable effort he forced his gaze away from the Forest and also the hand that had been inching up towards his glamour charm back down to his side.

He began walking back to Gryffindor tower slowly, all the while determining that he would try harder to blend in and to get used to his old life again.

**

* * *

**

_Easier said than done,_ thought Harry not a few days later.

He had lost count of the amount of times he was followed, questioned (surreptitiously, of course), and generally just _stared_ by the time his first week and a half back at school was up.

It was fast growing old.

And he couldn't tell his friends about any of it. He was completely alone in his secrets this time. What was more was that he wasn't quite sure what _else_ he was doing wrong. Was it his accent? His clothes? The way he walked and talked? His new aversion to Potions class?

Where was he screwing up? What wasn't he doing right?

Snape was probably the worst one of the lot. (Which may or may not have had something to do with the way Harry bated him and the fact that Snape seemed to be itching to catch his least favourite student out on _something_).

The other teachers did their fair share however. At least McGonagall was tactful about it, though if she asked him one more time if he was doing okay, and 'did he want to talk about it?' then he thought he just might blow a gasket.

But at least it beat having to constantly be on guard in case Snape tried to catch his eye and Legilimens him. Which he was pretty sure was illegal, mind.

However, that wasn't the worst of it. Oh no. Not only did Snape obviously have his mind set on driving him insane outside of class, but also _during_ class - or more specifically, during Defence Against the Dark Arts.

What had once been Harry's favourite class was now one of his least favourite classes.

He supposed it mightn't have been so bad if Slughorn hadn't been so incredibly irritating. He hadn't really minded the man at first, not really. A bit wary perhaps, but that had been before he'd realised once and for all that all Horace Slughorn truly cared about was fame and prestige. So really he'd just gone from one extreme to the other. From hatred to adoration (in a twisted sense).

It was like Lockhart all over again - just a far more cunning and subtle Lockhart.

So it was with annoyance that Harry sunk into one of the Gryffindor couches after a brutal Defence lesson with Snape and pulled out his latest Potions essay - just assigned the day before.

"I _hate_ him," Ron complained to Harry as he flopped next to him in an ungainly manner.

Harry nodded.

"He gets his kicks from torturing us; casting all those curses on us under the excuse of 'showing us how to do it'. Ha!"

Harry grimaced. It didn't take a genius to work out who Snape's favourite 'volunteer' was. Or rather, _victim_.

"Oh well. Better you than me, mate."

Harry turned to stare at his best friend. "Thanks, Ron. Thanks a lot."

Ron shrugged unapologetically. "Can't fault me, can you?"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course he couldn't. He'd probably feel the same way.

Ron opened his mouth to say something else, but then got cut off when both Hermione and Ginny dashed through the portrait hole, talking excitedly.

Both boys exchanged looks. Either it was something boy related...or something class related.

"This is just so exciting isn't it? It's so fortunate that Professor Babbling is one of the leading European experts on ancient runes, or we'd never have this opportunity!"

Ginny bobbed her head eagerly and said, "You and Luna should get together and work on it, maybe. Two heads are always better than one. I wish I was in Ancient Runes now! I mean, what if a student helps make a break-through?"

Harry almost could have sworn he saw stars in Hermione's eyes. She sunk into the seat across from him, clutching a scroll to her chest.

"That would be _amazing_," she breathed.

Harry and Ron exchanged even more looks.

Ron cleared his throat. "Okay, what in Merlin's name are you two nattering on about?"

Hermione just clutched her scroll tighter and beamed at Ron, not the least insulted. "All the students of Ancient Runes have just been given an amazing opportunity Ron!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we got that part, Hermione."

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" Asked Harry in an attempt to keep the peace before Ron could set their friend off on a rant.

"Well," said Hermione, leaning forward eagerly while Ginny finally sat down next to her brother to listen to the other girl's tale again, "archaeologists in south-west Germany have just uncovered another piece of what we like to call the Ancient's Runes."

Both Harry and Ron stared at her blankly.

"The what-whats?"

"Oh honestly, boys! Didn't you ever pay attention in history class?"

Harry felt that replying to that question would be entirely redundant. Besides, these days he was too busy staring at Binns himself, who tended to change colour depending on his mood - like all the ghosts did now. He usually only shifted between one or two colours. Right boring bloke.

Hermione ploughed on ahead, answering her own question. "Of course you didn't. Anyway, the Ancient's Runes are a set of Runes first discovered by Merlin himself near the coast of Wales! They've found bits and pieces of them all over Europe since, but no one's ever been able to decrypt them, not even Merlin! That's how old they are."

Harry had to admit, he was slightly impressed. He would have been more impressed if he hadn't known beings twice Merlin's age and still spry.

"Anyway, so they found another set carved into a slab of stone about a month ago, but they only just released the information. They sent copies to all the Masters of Ancient Runes, and one of them is Professor Babbling."

"So…?" Harry invited.

It was Ginny who answered the question after a meaningful glance with Hermione. "So, Professor Babbling believes in the imagination and inventiveness of youth and has made copies to distribute to all her OWL students and above in the hopes that they might be able to figure out something."

"Oh." His gaze flickered to the scroll. A pale blue hue, meaning it was enchanted somehow. The soft sparkle glimmered and rippled and seemed to sink into the parchment, and he watched, fascinated, as the magic virtually faded from view.

It was like the library books. It must have a lot of security charms on it, but they were hidden. The only wizard magic that could be subtle - magic that involved safety and security. He supposed it made sense though, that it be subtle enough to go undetected.

"Whoa. Wait a minute," muttered Ron, sounding slightly confused. "If not even Merlin could figure them out, what makes this time any different?"

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Oh, Ron. Honestly. Any new piece of evidence could possibly reveal a clue that would provide the key to unlocking their translation. This could be their Rosetta Stone."

Harry only vaguely understood the reference. He'd heard about it a few times in passing, but from Ron's blank expression it was obvious the reference had gone completely over his head. Maybe it was a muggle thing.

"Well," said Ginny brightly and somewhat eagerly, "let's have a look then."

Hermione grinned and held out her scroll. "The copy is in here," she whispered reverently.

Harry and Ron leaned in, unable to conceal their curiosity - Harry even more so, considering how fascinating he'd found learning about the elvish writing system all those months ago could be. Not to mention that the _Elwý_ had their own set of runes that they employed for magic - like his glamour charm.

Hermione unrolled the scroll slowly and then turned it so it was facing the three on the settee.

Harry couldn't help his sharp inhale.

It was an inscription, obviously carved into stone, which had been painstakingly redrawn as a copy by the original archaeologist no doubt. The inscription was only a segment and cut off in many places, but for Harry it read quite clearly.

_'- name of our great King and Commander -  
- all that is Magic be blessed with -_  
- _our people in the year of -_  
- _eternal knowledge and compassion, understanding and -'_

It was probably some sort of dedication to Caladharan, perhaps on a building. It didn't really make much sense, broken as it was - but Harry wasn't really thinking about that.

He swallowed heavily.

How could this be happening? Why did this have to show up right here, right now?

Fate was cruel. What if Hermione figured something out?

Harry thought he might have been holding his breath, because he let out another gasp when Ginny put her hand on his shoulder, sending tingles down his spine, and asked, "Harry? Are you all right? You're as pale as a ghost."

"Yeah, mate," chuckled Ron. "Look like you've seen a dementor or something."

But Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from Hermione's parchment. He kept scanning the words again and again. Was there any clue, any hint that might lead any of the Runes Masters to discovering how to read or understand _Elwýntencelle_?

He tried to tell himself that there was no possible way they could figure it out without already knowing _Elwýnllambe_ first. There was just no way. Plus, he knew from experience how complex and strange the writing system was. There was just no way. It wasn't possible.

He began to breath easier.

"Harry!"

Harry's head jerked up. He blinked. _"What?"_ He asked dazedly.

Three sets of eyes stared at him.

Then Harry realised what he'd just done. His mind had been in elvish mode, and so he'd automatically spoken in elvish without thinking.

_Shit._

What could he do? What could he say now?

He shot up. Ron gave a yelp and fell back against the cushions, eyes wide.

"I gotta...I gotta go."

He needed to get out of the common room before he did or said something even more revealing.

"Go?" Echoed his friends disbelievingly.

Harry swallowed. "Go, uh, go get something. Yeah, I need to get something. Bye!"

He practically sprinted for the stairs, completely abandoning his homework and school bag on the table. Once he got out of sight up the staircase he stopped and slumped against the stone. He stared blankly at their softly shifting colours.

_"You stupid idiot,"_ he told himself.

He was probably the worst secret keeper in the history of secret keepers. At the rate he was going, he was going to let something big slip and then it would be all over. He was doing this to protect people! It was no time for mistakes.

He closed his eyes and slumped down the wall.

_Idiot._

He had to know what they were saying about him now. He turned his head in the direction of the common room and strained his hearing, trying to pick out his friends' voices. At least he could listen to what they thought and maybe do some damage control.

He wasn't eavesdropping, honest.

"You guys wanna tell me why you all look so strange?"

Harry frowned. When had Neville come in?

"Harry's acting weird again, Nev," said Ron.

_Again?_ Thought Harry.

"Weird?"

"Yeah," muttered Ginny. "Here, keep your voice down. Sit."

Suddenly, they were all whispering and Harry had to really strain to hear them. The sounds of the other Gryffindors started to drown them out. He moved down a few steps and closed his eyes to concentrate as hard as he could under the repression on the glamour.

"Okay, now that we're all here, what's wrong with Harry?"

"He went completely mental just now!" Exclaimed Ron in hushed tones.

"Shh! What he means, Neville, is that Hermione was just showing us something from her Ancient Runes class and Harry got really weird. Went really pale and stared at it for a long time and then said something funny and...and, well, I've never seen someone move so fast! I swear I must have blinked or something." That was Ginny.

"What?" Asked Neville, sounding completely confused.

"If you blinked, then we all did," said Ron.

"I've been telling you, haven't I?" Sniffed Hermione. "There's just something _wrong_ with him. The way he moves."

"I...I've noticed it too, guys," whispered Neville nervously.

"Like what, then, Neville?" Asked Ginny quietly.

"W-well, he walks like Malfoy now. I never would have noticed it usually except that this is Harry. He doesn't act like that. And sometimes...sometimes he really creeps me out." Neville let out a choked noise, sounding absolutely miserable. "Does that make me a bad friend?"

"No, it doesn't," said Hermione firmly and Neville released a sigh.

"Neville, it doesn't mean you're not still his friend. To be honest, he sometimes scares me too. I've caught him looking at things that aren't there. He acts like he's not all here sometimes, like he's seeing things none of the rest of us are, you know?" Mumbled Ginny.

"I know what you mean," grumbled Ron. "When I talk to him sometimes he stares at me funny, or looks past me. And have you seen him move? It's more than just acting like some bloody pureblood ponce, Nev. Like just now, I swear I didn't see him move. It was like I blacked out for a second and then the next he was standing. That's not normal."

Neville suddenly gasped. "Y-you don't think he's...he's been..._bitten_?"

"No," said Hermione firmly. "Full moon's been and gone and he didn't disappear. Nor could he have been bitten by a vampire. There's no aversion to sunlight - in fact, he's more tan than he used to be, like he's been spending _more_ time outside."

"Then...what?" Questioned Ron.

There was a long, silent pause.

"Here," whispered Hermione abruptly, "take a look at this. What do you think?"

Harry heard some rustling of papers and then Neville said, "What's all this?"

Hermione immediately launched into a detailed explanation of the Ancient's Runes (which he now knew were _Elwý_ ruins), but then she included something that she hadn't included in her earlier description.

"Does anyone know who these Ancients were?" Neville had asked. It was something neither Harry nor Ron had thought to inquire about.

Hermione delved deeper into her lecture mode. "Well, there are several theories. Some say they were the inhabitants of Atlantis, which existed several thousand years before Merlin's time. Others say they were god-like creatures, worshipped for their immortal life and powerful magic who later abandoned this world. There's evidence from past discoveries that there were crude temples built in their honour, but none of them still stand. But they've been referenced by other ancient texts."

"Nice," muttered Ron.

"They're kind of like legends within legends, if you see what I mean," continued Hermione. "But the most popular theory, and the one I believe is most accurate, is that they were the Fae."

"The Fae?" Gasped Ron.

Hermione paused, Harry wondered what she was doing.

"Yes," she finally said. "The _Fae_."

"But they're just legends!" exclaimed Ron.

"Tales to scare us at night," added Ginny.

"Well, all legends have a grain of truth. Legend goes that the Fae used to reside in this realm until they created a new one - the Fae realm - to which they retreated. Tales of wizards and witches vanishing only to show up hours or days later, thinking months had passed? Driven insane, babbling tales of tall, inhuman creatures with powerful magic and cruel ways. Beautiful but cold. Inhuman." Hermione sounded absolutely enthralled.

"Ugh, stop it. I used to get nightmares thinking a Fae would appear from under my bed or inside my closet and drag me away unless I went to bed on time."

Hermione giggled. "Oh, _Ron_."

Harry too had to smother his laughter. He kept listening.

"Don't be stupid, Ron," said Hermione after Ron barked some muttered protests. "Why would that happen? If the Fae really existed, do you think they would really care about some naughty human child who wasn't doing as he was told?"

"Look, I'm just saying, do you have to sound so _happy_ when you talk about it?"

"Ron Weasley-"

"Hey, guys!" Neville interrupted. There was a sudden silence and then, "Um, what happened to them, if it really was the Fae - or whatever these Ancients were?"

Hermione sighed. "No one knows. The writing dates back pretty far, but we've never found anything remotely modern. Nothing past or during the time of Merlin. It's like they just disappeared."

"You know, we're getting off track here," prodded Neville. "What does this have to do with Harry?"

Harry wondered if it would do much damage if he banged his head against the rock behind him. Damn Neville! He just had to re-route the conversation! It figured.

"Right, well, I think maybe we should think about why Harry was so affected by these runes. I mean, he was fine before he saw them, and then suddenly it was like he'd seen a ghost!" Exclaimed Hermione softly and seriously.

"What?" Asked Ron.

"Hermione, why would Harry see a ghost? They don't come into the common rooms," asked Ginny sensibly.

Hermione groaned, and Harry felt a grin creep across his face despite the seriousness of the situation. Maybe he and Hermione should give Ron, Ginny and Neville a crash course in muggle idioms sometime in the future.

"Look, it's just a muggle expression. It means you've seen something scary and you look pale and frightened."

"But, ghosts aren't scary," said Ron in confusion.

"Ugh! Ron, that's not the point!"

"Okay, okay, so what you mean is he looked afraid when he saw the runes. But why?"

"I…" Hermione trailed off.

"Hey, I can't help, I wasn't here at the time." That was Neville. Harry wondered what silent exchange had occurred had between his four friends.

"Okay, well, he looked at it for a while, really intensely too," muttered Ginny.

Suddenly, Hermione gasped. "No! No, he didn't!"

"What?" Exclaimed both Ron and Ginny.

Hermione was on a roll. Even Harry wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"Don't you see?" She said loudly and had to be hushed. Her voice lowered and she continued earnestly. "Harry wasn't _looking_ at it...he was _reading_ it."

Silence. Harry's breath caught. Then, "Of course he was reading it, Hermione, we all were."

The breath came out in a _whoosh_ and Harry slumped further against the stones. That had been close.

"No, you weren't."

Or not.

Harry gulped.

"What do you mean?" Asked Neville.

"Okay, I'll explain," whispered Hermione conspiringly. "I think Harry was reading the runes, like, actually reading them."

"Hermione...that's not possible, you know that. You just explained that to us," said Ginny softly.

Hermione sighed. "I guess...I guess you're right, but…"

"But?"

"But, well...I noticed after we realised something was wrong that Harry...here Ron, take a look at it. How do you view it? You see it like a picture, right? Your eyes go across it, up and down, all over."

"Uh, sure. I guess."

"Right. But when Harry 'looked' at it, he didn't look at it like that, like you'd look at something you don't understand. He looked like he was reading it. Just like when you read a textbook and your eyes move across the page and then down and across again with focus and intent. Just like that. I noticed it and thought it was strange."

"Oh," breathed Ginny.

"Hermione, you scare me sometimes," muttered Ron. Then he continued sensibly, "But how would _Harry_ of all people know how to read ancient runes that not even the leading experts in the world know the slightest thing about?"

Harry felt his tensed muscles relax again.

Despite Hermione usually being the voice of reason and he and Ron going off on wild theories, it seemed things were going topsy-turvy today - and in his favour as well. If Ron could convince Hermione she was being unrealistic, then maybe his slip-up wouldn't have as bad a consequence as he feared.

"I guess you're right Ron. I mean, it's insane right?"

"But that still doesn't explain why he was so frightened of them, or that weird noise he made when he finally snapped out of it," said Ginny matter-of-factly.

"True," said Hermione solemnly.

"Yeah, what _was_ that weird noise he made?" Asked a perplexed Ron.

"I dunno, it sounded kind of like 'myah-tuh' or maybe 'nyah-tuh'. Like he tried to say two things at once maybe. I do that sometimes. I don't think that's very important," responded Ginny.

_It's Myatcë_, thought Harry, but inside he was mentally cheering Ginny on. Hopefully they'd drop that particular subject.

Alas, it was not to be. Usually there were perks to being the friend of the brightest witch in the school, but at other times…

"It didn't sound like a stutter to me. It sounded like he was saying something in a different language."

Harry began to truly contemplate the head-plus-wall option. It was looking rather appealing.

"That's ridiculous, Hermione. Harry doesn't speak another language, and even if he knew some words in like, Welsh or something, why would that matter and why would he suddenly start blurting it out?" Said Ron.

"Look Ron, I don't know. I don't know anything about Harry anymore. He disappears of the face of the planet for a whole summer and then suddenly pops up again and acts like nothing happened! We were worried sick, and now he's back and acting strange? Something's up and he's not telling us!" Hermione sounded very upset by now, and twinges of guilt began to once again gnaw at his heart. "Sometimes…"

"I know it's weird, but shouldn't we just trust him? He said he couldn't tell us what happened, but it can't have been anything bad, right?" Said Neville.

Hermione sniffled. "I kn-know, b-but..."

"But what?"

"R-ron," she sniffled again, "I think it might not even _be_ Harry."

"WHAT?" Shouted Ron.

"Quiet!" Hissed Ginny and there was the sound of skin slapping skin and a muffled grunt.

"Hermione, what are you saying?" Murmured Neville.

"I mean, sometimes it's just like Harry before he went missing, and other times it's like he's...well, _not_ Harry. You've all noticed, we've all discussed it and...you've...you've all heard the stories right? Of Changlings. What if…?"

Ginny gave a forced sounding laugh. "Don't be absurd, Hermione! Changlings? They're just a myth, like the Fae."

"But it would explain so much!" Exclaimed Hermione heatedly. "And you can't tell me you don't think it's not a coincidence that these runes have shown up just now and that 'Harry' freaked out after seeing them and that they're theorised to be _Fae_ runes?"

"I thought we just agreed to trust him?" Said Ron stiffly.

"I know…" whispered Hermione miserably. "But I just can't help but wonder-"

"Don't. I didn't trust him before and look how that turned out? I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt this time."

Hermione sniffed and there was a moment of silence. "Ron, you've matured, you know that?"

"Er."

"I'm proud of you."

"What are you, my mum?"

They all laughed and Harry sighed, glad they were no longer fighting, but also exceedingly worried. Hermione was getting way too close to the truth. Dangerously so.

But at least now he knew what he was doing wrong. He needed to stop getting distracted by the magic in the castle, and he needed to slouch more and act more sloppy. But the inhuman-ness? What could he do?

He chewed his lip, worried. He _wasn't_ human. There was nothing he could do about that. He could maybe try and pretend to trip up or try and be more clumsy. Move slower. Pretend not to notice sounds and sights that normal humans shouldn't have noticed.

Why hadn't he thought of all that before? Merlin, he was so stupid. He was horrible at being undercover. He might as well take a big neon sign and stick it over his head, saying, 'Legendary 'Fae' Here, Please Gawk At Your Leisure'. It might be less painful for all involved if he did so.

"Ron, Neville, why don't you go check on Harry. He's been gone an awfully long time," said Ginny.

Harry kept sitting on the stairs for a few more seconds, mind somewhere else, before the significance of Ginny's words sunk in and he shot upright. He scrambled up the steps and had just cleared the corner when he heard louder footsteps on the bottom of the staircase.

He dashed into the sixth year Gryffindor boy's dorm and divided for his trunk. He had it open and things scattered around him in a huge mess when Ron and Neville poked their heads through the door. They gave him and his mess a strange look.

"Find what you were...looking for, mate?" Asked Ron sceptically.

Harry stood up slowly and shook his head. "No. I guess I'll have to do without it."

Neville picked his way between the door and Harry's bed and peered into his half-empty trunk.

"What were you looking for?" He asked curiously.

Harry blinked at him blankly. What could he say? "Uhh, just something. Nothing important."

He received two suspicious looks for this. He scowled back and they were left in an awkward silence.

"Why don't you come back downstairs," said Ron finally. "You said you needed to start that essay."

Harry nodded, glad for the subject change. He currently felt like a bug under a microscope.

"I'll be down in a second," he said, "after I clean this up."

Ron and Neville left and Harry collapsed on his bed, mind whirling. He started absently picking up his things the old-fashioned way (well, for an elf at least) and putting them back in his trunk instead of using a spell, and let his thoughts wander.

He found he couldn't be mad at his friends for talking about him behind his back. Or even being suspicious. He hadn't really given them much choice, and to be honest, they had a right to worry. Whenever Harry got himself involved in something, it was usually something dangerous and life-threatening. How were they supposed to know that this time was any different?

Still, he wished Hermione would stop analysing him like some sort of science project. If she kept up her line of questioning, he feared she might uncover the truth.

At least there was very little information on the _Elwý_. The 'Fae' was another kettle of fish entirely, but he knew that a lot of the legends of the Fae were misconceptions and made-up fairy-tales. Hopefully Hermione's brain would remain close-minded and not try to search beyond what was written in her history books.

Harry wasn't really counting on it. There was also Luna to account for. Now she definitely thought outside of the box. He would have to watch out for her. For all he knew, she probably believed whole-heartedly in the Fae and was more likely to sort the truths from the lies, simply because of her strangeness.

He floated another shirt up off the floor and folded it messily before guiding it to his trunk.

There was an easier way to do this.

Pulling out his wand, he cast the appropriate spell and then flicked his trunk shut. Then he took a deep breath and prepared to go back downstairs.

* * *

Almost everyday after classes the rest of that week found Hermione sequestered in the library with Luna, occasionally on her own, trying to find out something on the Ancients' Runes.

Harry made a point of avoiding the library at almost all times. If he needed a book, he got up early and went before breakfast.

However, eventually Hermione had to concede defeat and focus more and more of her attention on her homework and regular studies. Sixth year, as they were all finding out, was positively brutal. For one, Snape was demanding they learn how to perform non-verbal spells like professionals in next to no time. Then there was Slughorn who, while a far cry better than Snape, was still a brutal grader. Harry had to have Hermione help him in virtually everything. It was almost strange because he followed the examples and directions in the book to a tee and yet his results were still sub-par. He sorely wished they could invent a potions book that would give the _right_ directions for once. Not to mention he always had an awful headache for an hour after class. Mondays were his least favourite days of the week by far.

Finally, while Flitwick was his usual cheery self, McGonagall seemed to take sixth year as a personal crusade to see as many students stressed and overloaded as possible. Harry was sure she just wanted them prepared, but he really though they could have done without the amount of boring theoretical essays twenty-four-seven. Practising the practical part of sixth year transfiguration was hard enough!

Nearing the end of his second week back, Dumbledore summoned Harry to his office again. To be honest, Harry had been expecting a summons far earlier after his vision a week earlier, but it seemed that Dumbledore had more important things on his mind all of a sudden. For one, Harry rarely saw him now at any of the meals, and it almost seemed like it had been left up to Snape to discover Harry's whereabouts over the summer - something Harry didn't appreciate in the least.

So, nearly two weeks after the start of term, he stood outside the headmaster's office and glared impatiently at the gargoyle.

"Licorice wands, ice mice, sugar quills, Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans! Oh for goodness sake, let me in!"

The gargoyle stared back at him unmoving and smug.

Harry kicked it - then he spent about half a minute dancing around on one foot, feeling sorry for himself.

Finally fed up with the whole thing, he used an elvish unlocking spell, brushing a hand lightly over the head of the gargoyle and forcing it to step aside. He made sure no one was looking first, of course. Then, he smirked at the gargoyle and made his way up the stairs where he knocked on the Professor's large oak door and waited.

"Come in, Harry," came Dumbledore's muffled voice. The door swung open of its own accord.

"You wanted to see me, professor?" Asked Harry as soon as he'd stepped through.

Dumbledore put down the rather old looking parchment he was perusing and smiled at Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "Ah yes, please, do sit down. I'm afraid I have something of a rather...unpleasant nature to discuss with you today, Mr. Potter."

Harry sat and wondered what it could be this time. Something to do with his vision perhaps? Some terrible discovery about Voldemort?

Dumbledore put away his scroll and then cleared his throat, catching Harry's attention further by the grave look on his face.

"As you may or may not know, Mr. Potter, when your godfather died he left a will. We discovered it over the summer."

Oh. Well this was certainly unpleasant. And unexpected.

"He left you everything."

Harry was grateful he wasn't drinking or eating anything at that moment, or he might have choked.

"Oh," he croaked weakly.

Dumbledore seemed to have anticipated Harry's unspoken question as to what this entailed, because he continued to say, "This of course means you've inherited a sizeable amount of gold as well as all of Sirius's personal possessions. However, and the reason we haven't been using Grimmauld Place as Headquarters this summer, apart from the time we found the will, is that Sirius left it to you."

Harry wasn't entirely sure where Dumbledore was going with this. Surely the man knew that Harry wouldn't have said no to their usage of the Black Family home?

"What's the problem?" He asked. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he wanted the house. It would remind him too much of Sirius.

"Usually," explained Dumbledore, "tradition would decree that the House be passed down from male heir to the next. However, since Sirius was the last, his younger brother Regulus having died as well, there is a possibility that there are spells or enchantments on that House that might prevent it from being inherited by anyone other than a pureblood."

Harry didn't think it was prudent to inform Dumbledore that he technically _was_ a pureblood...just of a different species. It may be that the House would very much decide he wasn't worthy.

Still, Harry didn't see too many problems with this...that is until Dumbledore continued his explanation further.

"If this is indeed the case, as I can see from your expression you believe so too, then most likely the House will be passed down to Sirius's oldest living relative - his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

One second Harry was listening absently, his thoughts elsewhere, and the next rage, so potent he could feel the air around him start to solidify and whip about in small currents, filled him to the brim.

"What?" He asked dangerously, sure he'd misheard.

Dumbledore looked around himself in mild shock, taking stock of the blowing papers and the heavy atmosphere.

"Harry, my boy-"

"She is _not_ taking Sirius's house!" Bellowed Harry.

"And there is still a possibility that she hasn't!" Said Dumbledore very loudly over the raging winds. "Calm yourself, Harry!"

Slowly, Harry unclenched his hands where he found they'd gripped the armrests of his chair, and tried to bring his temper under control. Bit by bit, papers and even a few lighter weight objects dropped from the air and scattered across the room. A sweep of the Headmaster's wand, and everything was back in order, but Harry was too busy berating himself for loosing control like that _again_, to really notice.

"Now," said Dumbledore as soon as Harry focused his attention back on the ageing man, "after revealing that Voldemort is interested in the Black Library, I am exceedingly wary of letting it fall into the wrong hands. There is a simple test to see if you really did inherit everything...in which case we can then relocate back to Headquarters and perhaps even figure out what book has Voldemort so interested. If we can find out what it is that he wants and keep it from him, we will have an advantage."

Harry nodded firmly. There was no way he was letting Bellatrix - let alone Voldemort - get her filthy hands on Sirius' things.

Dumbledore raised his wand yet again, and there was a loud _crack_ and a creature Harry had hoped he'd never have to see again appeared, looking and smelling very out of place in his filthy rags.

"Kreacher," said Dumbledore solemnly, and that seemed to be the house elf's cue.

"Won't!" Declared Kreacher loudly and venomously, "Kreacher won't, won't, won't! Kreacher wants Mistress Bellatrix! Kreacher wants his rightful Mistress! Kreacher won't go to the horrible Potter brat, no, no, no!"

Harry stared at the...thing...on Dumbledore's carpet and swallowed heavily. He felt an overwhelming desire to toss it out the window.

"I don't…" he began with disgust, but Dumbledore interrupted both him and Kreacher, who had yet to stop ranting.

"As you can see, Kreacher is expressing a heartfelt," here Dumbledore paused delicately at his choice of wording, "desire to be allowed to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix, but-"

"Good," said Harry shortly. "She can have him."

Kreacher stomped his feet at this and increased his protests in volume.

"But," continued Dumbledore as though he hadn't been interrupted, "this is an unwise course of action considering Kreacher has been in the same house as the Order for a year. Letting him pass into the hands of a death eater would be the worst possible thing to do at this time."

Unfortunately, Dumbledore had a valid point. Harry stared at the wailing creature in horror. He didn't want that thing!

"Why don't you give him an order, Harry? If he obeys, he is yours. And if he is yours, then so is everything else."

Harry swallowed. Kreacher's wailing got louder.

_"No, no, no! Kreacher won't! Won't, won't, won't! Won't, won't-"_

Harry clamped his hands over his sensitive ears and glared at the filthy thing wrecking havoc on the floor.

"Be silent!" He snapped, shouting himself by now.

Kreacher's mouth snapped shut and his eyes bulged. He made a sort of choking noise, and then threw himself on the floor and began to kick and scream silently.

"Well," said Dumbledore cheerfully, and with no small amount of relief, "that solves that problem then. Perhaps you'd like to assign him to the Hogwarts kitchens where he can have an eye kept on him by the other elves."

Harry's eyes twitched at the mention of elves, but did as the Headmaster suggested, finding no better solution. Kreacher gave him a look that could kill right before he disappeared, but after he had, Harry could finally breath normally again.

That House Elf had _stunk_.

Dumbledore only kept him for a little while longer while he asked Harry what he wanted to do with Buckbeak the Hippogriff, otherwise known as Witherwings, who had, unknown to Harry, been staying with Hagrid and was now his. Harry, feeling guilty that he had yet to go say hi to Hagrid, and furthermore, that he had dropped Care of Magical Creatures and now Hagrid was virtually ignoring him and his friends, told Dumbledore that Hagrid could keep the Hippogriff.

Hopefully that would make some sort of amends.

When he left the Headmaster's office that day, he had a lot to think about - among them the piercing, searching look Dumbledore had given him right before dismissing him - and for once he could tell his friends every detail about what had happened. It did much to brighten his spirits.

* * *

**AN: **And there we have the long anticipated next chapter at over 10,000words because I damn owed it to you all for the long wait.

For those of you who read my profile page, I explained the reason for the long wait, but for those that don't, I will give a quick reason here:

First, just in case anyone was wondering, I went back and edited the last chapter a few lines to coincide with HBP's timeline a bit more. Nothing big, just switched the order of classes around for the first day.

Second, despite having done the above, and also despite having introduced Slughorn (simply because I wanted Snape as the Defense Prof. and needed a new Potions teacher, so why not Slughorn?), this fic is no longer Horcrux - or indeed, any of the plot devices introduced in HBP and DH - compliant. It never really was, but I had still planned to include them until I realised just HOW much extra pressure that was putting on me to try and reconcile my new HP-verse and canonverse - nigh impossible. Therefore, I abandoned that difficult road in hopes that I would, actually, one day _finish _this monster of a fic. Because I'm sure you'd all appreciate that, right? However, this unfortunately meant that I had to scrap a good deal of writing, rework a LOT of the plot and scenes, etc, etc...and I didn't feel comfortable releasing the next chapter until I had **everything **worked out so there would be no more funny surprises and me going "Oops! Plot hole!"

Thus the wait. And thus the apologies.

However, things should go a bit more smoothly now, and the next chapter is already nearly done. Not quite, but nearly, and trust me when I say I have a very interesting turn of events planned!

No time for answering any questions, so I'll save that for next chapter, but thank you _so _much to everyone who reviewed with their thoughts and ideas :P It's always interesting to see what people think is going to happen! Sometimes you're wrong...and sometimes you can be right! I'll let you ponder who guessed what correctly.

I'd very much appreciate if all you new readers would drop a review letting me know what you think (although faving and alerting this fic sort of speaks for itself, I should hope) but nevertheless, thanks to all those reading. I'm glad I can entertain. And that some of you think this is one of the best fics you've read? Really, I'm gobsmacked - because there are plenty out there which I would call far better than this. So thanks. I admit it does make me grin like a loony every time I read something like that XD

xoxRia


	19. Fairy Tale Ending?

**Chapter 19: Alternatively Titled: Not All Fairy Tales Have Happy Endings:  
**

Harry peeled his form from the dark corner as Snape finished stalking down the dark corridor and continued silently on his way, feet and clothing making not a single sound. His eyes gleamed unusually brightly in the reflection of the crescent moon shining through Hogwart's windows.

He turned a corner and padded down a staircase. It stayed thoughtfully put for him - they all did. He patted the banister as he stepped off the last moving staircase, brushing fingers along the wood and watching the magic swirl in response.

Sometimes he thought that Hogwarts must be alive.

It didn't take long after that until he was breathing in the fresh night air and feeling a cool autumn breeze across his skin. Finally, he could let down his guard.

Every day, from sunup to sundown he was constantly looking over his shoulder. Everything he did was scrutinised down to every inhuman action. He'd purposefully tripped up twice since he'd eavesdropped on his friend's observations and still he'd overheard Hermione muttering to herself and making notes on his behaviour.

He admired her dedication, he really did...but couldn't she just give it a rest? He was her friend - didn't he have a right to his privacy?

Except that he knew her curiosity and desire for knowledge was insatiable. And her devotion to him as a friend would not allow her to do anything less than find out what was wrong with him. She truly believed that he might be in trouble, and that was the only thing keeping Harry's temper in check.

So instead he was going to work out his frustrations on a midnight run through the woods. The idea had been niggling in the back of his mind since his vision, and the desire had only grown stronger and stronger with each passing day.

He approached the dark line of whispering trees without trepidation. He no longer felt the fear he had before. He belonged in them just as much as any resident of the Dark Forest. He could hunt with the best of them. Hear the footfalls of a predator metres before it entered his field of vision. His reflexes and powers would assure that nothing touched him.

And if all else failed, the Black Guard would be shadowing his every move.

When he stepped past the forest's edge and the castle disappeared, screened by low-hanging branches and black tree trunks, he reached up and slowly lifted the glamour charm off his neck.

His senses flooding back was almost more than he could bear and he trembled slightly, dropping the charm shakily in his pocket. He could smell the scent of the trees. The rot killing the one to his immediate left. There was a bowtruckle in another a few metres down to his right. He could hear its little chatter. Air caressed his skin with feather-light touches and it had never felt so good to be alive.

Living in such an oppressive atmosphere as he had been the past two and a half weeks really put things into perspective.

Leaves crackled to his right and he turned to acknowledge the near silent approaching guards. They were good. He hadn't heard them until they were nearly on top of him.

_"My Prince,"_ they intoned, dropping to one knee and bowing their heads.

_"What do you desire of us?"_ Asked one, voice directed at the dirt beneath his feet.

Araëmel stared into the shadows. _"I need to run. I am...stressed."_

_ "We will guard you."_

_ "Do not get too close unless needed,"_ he decided, wanting to be mostly alone.

_"Understood."_

Araëmel sighed and rolled his neck, loosening clenched muscles. He watched the two guards melt back into the dark and marvelled at their ability to conceal themselves. For an _Elwý_ it was a mean feat, considering they glowed rather noticeably in the dark.

Then he took off, stretching muscles he hadn't stretched for too long. Master Melcacrist would be having a fit right around now, knowing how little he'd kept up his training regime. But he couldn't. The kinds of exercises he had to do to increase his flexibility further (not that it needed it much to start off with) and keep up his strength would have given him away immediately.

So instead he just ran, leaping nimbly over roots and brushing aside branches with an automatic gesture. When he reached a slight hill or ditch, he would simply spring over, letting the air currents lift him up and deposit him at the bottom without even a break in stride.

It was exhilarating. He emptied his mind, listening to his heart, letting its beat fill his head.

Then there was a crashing sound to his right and the sound of thundering hooves. A grunt and Araëmel drew to a sudden halt and turned to stare. The Black Guards had swords and daggers drawn in response to the Centaurs' bows.

_"Your Highness, please stay back, we will deal with the problem."_

_ "No,"_ said Araëmel softly, studying the two Centaur men and thinking one of them looked rather familiar. Dark hair and a dark countenance.

"What are you?" Queried the familiar one roughly. "What are you doing in our forest?"

The two guard hissed and raised their weapons higher, but Araëmel stepped forward and placed a hand on the right guard's shoulder. _"Stop."_

"Bane…" whispered the other Centaur. His eyes were wide and his arrow drooping.

Araëmel suddenly remembered. Bane has been there that time in the forest, in his first year. The one who hated humans.

"Hello, Bane," he said, pleased he remembered.

Bane tightened his hands on his bow and demanded, "Who are you?"

"Didn't you just want to know _what_ I was?" Araëmel responded, amused.

"Then what are you?"

He grinned. "What do you think I am?"

"_Fae…_" breathed the second Centaur, hands falling limply to his side and bow held in loose fingers.

"We call ourselves _Elwý_," Araëmel offered.

"Impossible," Bane said gruffly. "Mere legends. And even if you were, the Fae do not belong here."

"Bane, do not anger the Fae. They are far older and wiser than we," advised Bane's partner.

_"Elwý," _Araëmel repeated, trying not to roll his eyes. He hated being called a 'Fae'. It just seemed wrong to him. It reminded him of fairies and all their various cousins - and he was certainly no _fairy_.

But, he thought, standing there in the dark clearing, it felt good to openly discuss their people without having to worry about the repercussions. Centaurs weren't humans so it did not matter if they knew. They would not tell the wizards. Magical beings had an allegiance to themselves first and foremost.

And as such an ancient species, the elves were owed extreme respect, and in some cases even reverence.

"Our apologies," murmured the blond-haired Centaur; Bane's partner.

"Oh, no need. But I would rather you did not call us 'Fae.' No more than I suspect you would like to be called 'Horse'."

Bane hissed through his teeth and moved to bring his slouching bow back up, but his partner held out a hand and stopped him. "Peace, Bane. He makes a fair point."

"Humph."

"For what do we have the pleasure of this meeting?"

Araëmel grinned at the formal speech, glad of his etiquette lessons. Now he could put them to good use. No more would he fumble around for the right words or make an ass out of himself trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about.

No doubt, if Hermione knew, she'd faint from shock. And happiness.

"A midnight run," he replied.

"But the Fae - Elw-"

"_Elwý,"_ Araëmel supplied helpfully.

"Yes. Your people are mere legends. I am still not entirely convinced of what you are, but your appearance would suggest…" Bane paused and glanced up at the sky with a frown on his face. "The moon…"

"You don't need to know why we're here, only that this information does not travel beyond your own herd," Araëmel interrupted softly and firmly. "And put away your weapons. You are agitating my guards, and it's not wise to upset the Black Guard."

"The Black Guard?" Repeated Blondie, automatically obeying and sliding his unused arrow back into the quiver on his back.

"Highly trained assassins. My guard."

Bane's eyes flickered to the unnaturally still elves before him and then finally lowered his bow, reluctantly placing his arrow back into its quiver.

"Thank you."

"You must be of high stature," observed Blondie.

Araëmel smiled, showing off slightly pointed teeth. "The highest."

He wondered how they would react. He admitted to wanting to get back at Bane slightly for wishing to abandon him to Voldemort's tender mercies that one time when he was only eleven and had hardly more capability in defending himself than a new-born kitten.

To his great satisfaction, he saw Bane pale slightly.

"Our _deepest_ apologies," murmured Blondie with wide eyes and a nervous stamp of a hoof.

"I don't mind," Araëmel reassured them, knowing he wasn't that cruel. "But I think I will leave now. Please don't bother my guard if you happen upon them again."

"Your guards are highly skilled for we have yet to detect them. This is the first sign we have seen of your presence."

Araëmel gave a sheepish smile. "I wasn't particularly worried about making a racket. I hope I did not disturb you?"

"We were simply making a nightly patrol, Lord."

"Farewell then," Araëmel said, nodding politely. Then he turned and left, his two guard following him silently.

Once he was out of sight and earshot, he let his posture relax and rolled his eyes. Ugh. Fancy talk always made him feel like screaming afterward. But his grandparents had drilled the concept of 'diplomacy' into his head (as had his evil etiquette teacher), and so he knew he had to represent their nation in a way that would not shame them.

If that meant acting like a Malfoy and remembering to use formal language, then so be it.

_"Prince Araëmel, you allow them to get away with much rudeness."_

_ "We don't want to make enemies of potential allies,"_ Araëmel responded. _"The Centaurs are a wise race."_

_ "This is true."_

_ "Bane simply has a bit of a temper."_ And an attitude problem.

_"If you wish us not to harm them, then we shall not, your Highness. Their Majesties gave us no orders concerning the non-humans."_

_ "I do."_

_ "Very well."_

Araëmel nodded at them both and then broke out into a jog. He wanted to get some sleep now. His little run and meeting with the Centaurs had been both relaxing and exciting at the same time and now he was feeling tired.

Besides, he had Double Defence tomorrow, and he'd be damned if Snape was going to catch him out for lack of sleep.

* * *

The next night, Harry had another vision. It wasn't like the first had been - Voldemort's emotions weren't quite strong enough to send a completely clear picture. He was angry at discovering that the Black Inheritance had all gone to his enemy, but his apparent desire for the Black Library wasn't as great as Harry had initially assumed.

So the vision was disjointed and Harry woke up in a slight daze, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to push back the mild headache he had. He decided the vision was not important enough to tell Dumbledore right away, so he rolled over and went back to sleep.

When morning crept its way through the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, he woke and forced himself out of bed early. He would go see Dumbledore first and hopefully make it in time for breakfast.

Twenty minutes later he stood outside the gargoyle entrance to the Headmaster's office and glared at the smug stone visage. This time he didn't even bother to try and guess sweet names, he just looked around for anyone watching, and then forced the stupid thing to step aside.

Feeling overly vindicated in his victory against an inanimate object of all things, he made his way up the moving stairs and knocked on the oak door, hoping that Dumbledore, eccentric as he was, was already up. Fortunately, he was right, and he heard Dumbledore's cheerful voice calling out for him to enter.

"Ah, Harry!" Said the old man in surprise when Harry pushed the door open and stepped inside. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I had another vision last night," Harry replied promptly, getting straight to the point.

Dumbledore's pleasant visage immediately dropped to be replaced by a serious look. Voice now grave, he gestured to a chair and asked his student to sit. Then he enquired, "And what did Voldemort reveal to us this time?"

"Not much," Harry grumbled, feeling that if he had to be woken up in the middle of the night feeling horrible because of Voldemort then the least that the monster could do was give him some useful information. "He's pretty angry over losing control of the Black Inheritance, but it didn't last long."

Dumbledore frowned. "I...see."

"That's it."

Dumbledore simply hummed to himself under his breath, eyes gazing off into the distance, past Harry's head.

"Sir," he interrupted the man's thoughts, "have you figured out what Voldemort wants with the Library? What book he wants?"

Dumbledore blinked back to himself. "Ah, no, not yet, m'boy."

Harry forced himself not to react to being called 'm'boy'. It was really quite condescending. Instead he shrugged and frowned. "Oh. What about anything else?"

"I'm afraid there's no new information to be told."

Harry got the feeling something was still being kept from him regardless. Why else would he not be seeing Dumbledore around unless the Headmaster had something better to be doing - like discovering Voldemort's plans and weaknesses? Surely by now he had something to share - and he probably did, but apparently not with _Harry_ he didn't.

"You'd best be off to breakfast then, Harry. Thank you for telling me this information."

Harry nodded curtly and left the office, silently fuming. When was Dumbledore going to trust him? Hadn't they already been over what keeping big secrets about Voldemort and Harry's life did? Dumbledore's damaged office should have been proof enough of that - except, now that he thought about it, the office hardly looked damaged, and most of the instruments he'd broken seemed to have been replaced.

Then, with a twinge of guilt, he realised just why Dumbledore might have been less than inclined to share information with him. It wasn't like _Harry_ had been very forthcoming with where he'd been over the summer. How was Dumbledore to know he could be trusted when Harry himself couldn't trust the man with such important information?

But it wasn't fair. Harry couldn't tell him for some very good reasons and he'd already told everyone that his summer activities had nothing to do with Voldemort. It was strictly family business, so really no one else's concern. But when one is the Boy-Who-Lived, he supposed even family business became public property.

Scowling heavily, Harry stomped his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. When he arrived he was hardly surprised that Hermione was already there, along with Ginny and Neville. The only person not present was Ron, but that as well was no surprise. Half the reason he even made it to breakfast on time in the morning was because Harry was there to wake him up.

"I woke Ron up on my way out," Neville told him when he sat down.

"Oh, thanks," replied Harry, knowing that Ron probably would have slept through class otherwise.

The two boys shared an amused, exasperated look. Ron's inability to get himself up in the mornings was a point of equal hilarity and irritation amongst the sixth year Gryffindor boys.

"Honestly," Hermione sniffed, "one of these days Ron is going to miss something important enough that it will affect his future - like the first day of his new job. You two won't always be around to wake him up, you know."

"Nah, that's what he'll have you for, Hermione," Harry joked, smirking.

Hermione went red and glared at him. "Just what are you implying?"

He widened his eyes innocently. "Oh, nothing."

Everyone else could obviously see that the two would end up together except of course, the two in question themselves. Ron and Hermione were still ignoring blatant signs of attraction from the other. It was kind of funny, actually, so Harry took many opportunities to tease them both - usually without the other around.

"Where were you this morning, Harry?" Ginny piped up from next to Hermione.

"Dumbledore's office," he explained while he spread some jam on a piece of toast.

"What were you doing in Dumbledore's office?" Hermione wondered.

Harry looked up significantly and glanced around before lowering his voice. "My dreams."

Three sets of eyes widened at the implications.

"Was it…?" Began Hermione.

"It wasn't anything too important, if that's what you're wondering."

Hermione fell silent with a quick nod.

Harry continued to make his toast, practically drowning the slice of warm bread in sugary jam, and when that was done, he went for the bowl of sliced fruits as well. He had just finished that and was reaching for a new piece of toast when Ron stumbled his way, still half-asleep, into the hall and over to their part of the table.

"M'rning," he yawned.

"Good _Morning_, Ron," said Hermione primly.

"Too early," grumbled Ron, after rubbing some more sleep out of his eyes, which only caused Hermione to roll her own eyes in exasperation.

"Honestly, Ron-" she began, only to be cut off by the dozens of owls that suddenly swooped through the Great Hall, delivering the morning mail.

There were more owls than usual that morning, which was soon discovered to be the fault of several dozen copies of the Daily Prophet they were all delivering. Obviously something important had happened, because students were reading the headlines with wide eyes.

Harry watched Hermione receive her own copy with trepidation and waited anxiously for her to reveal whatever information it contained. She read through the front-page article quickly, eyes skimming the words, before looking up grimly.

"Voldemort," was all she said.

"What?" Cried Ron.

Hermione nodded and passed the paper over the table. "It's speculation, of course, but no doubt about it, really, it has to be Voldemort. He's targeting Ministry Officials."

Ron read the article with suddenly alert eyes, shoulders slumping the more he read. When he was finished he offered it to Harry, but Harry shook his head. He really didn't need more bad news this morning, he was already in a horrible mood. Besides, Hermione could tell him all the details later.

Ron passed the paper over to Neville, who read it and then passed it back to Hermione. Harry attempted to ignore all this by slapping some marmalade on his second piece of toast. But then Hermione's snort interrupted his meticulous spreading and he had to look up.

"What?" Asked Neville.

Ginny, who was reading over Hermione's shoulder, made a face. "Ugh, the Daily Prophet is singing praises about some of the Ministry workers, but really they're all doing horrible jobs. If anything, I'd say they're making things _easier_ for Voldemort, not harder."

Harry suddenly flashed back to when Dumbledore had revealed that one of Voldemort's newer death eaters was a man who owned a large portion of the Daily Prophet. Somehow, after knowing that, he wasn't too surprised that the newspaper would be writing good things about stupid people.

His bad mood worsened.

"Cheer up, Harry," said Neville, having apparently noticed his moodiness.

Harry just bit into his toast viciously. It made him feel a little better. What he really wanted to do was go spar - work out his frustrations by hacking away at someone with a sword. But that really wasn't an option at the moment.

He shot a quick look at the Head Table, noticing that despite having seen the man earlier in his office, Dumbledore still hadn't shown for breakfast. Again.

What was so important that the Headmaster would miss breakfast? Harry could think of many things - most of which potentially involved him. Even Ministry business these days tended to centre around Voldemort and thus involved Harry Potter.

So why wouldn't Dumbledore just _tell_ him what was going on? Why he was always absent; why he never seemed to give him a straight answer?

"You look murderous," said Ginny dryly, distracting him from his thoughts.

Harry realised he'd been scowling deeply and quickly smoothed out the wrinkles in his

forehead. "Sorry."

"What were you thinking about that's got you so worked up?"

Harry wondered momentarily if he should tell his friends what he'd been thinking. He'd yet to tell them how he felt or even that Dumbledore was keeping things from him again.

"Harry? What is it? Is it Voldemort?" Hermione inquired worriedly.

Harry sighed heavily, putting an elbow and slumping slightly in a show of extremely bad manners. "Kind of," he replied moodily. "It's just...Dumbledore's gone again, and he's always gone lately and I get the feeling it has to do with Voldemort but he's not sharing any information with me like he said he would last year and it's so frustrating, because last time he kept secrets from me, look what happened!" He made an angry gesture at the air, mouth tightening as he grit his teeth just thinking about what had happened nearly a year ago (or rather, only a few months ago, not counting his six month sojourn in the land of elves).

Fortunately, he didn't need to elaborate, as everyone present knew exactly what he was talking about and there were soon grim faces all around.

"That is frustrating," agreed Ginny.

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe...he really has nothing to tell you. Maybe it's something else that's occupying his time…"

Harry shot her a dubious look. "Oh right, because Voldemort comes second. No, it has to do with Voldemort, and, by association, _me_. Which means I have a right to know. But he's not saying anything!"

"Maybe it's only theories and he doesn't have any solid answers, so he's waiting to tell you," Hermione tried again.

Harry stared at her flatly. "Even then he should tell me. Two heads are better than one - better yet, I've got access to His _mind_, who better to bounce ideas off of?"

"Maybe that's what he's worried about," Neville piped up. "Maybe he's afraid You-Know-Who will find out from your mind."

Harry shook his head quickly. "No. I can keep him out. Remember? He tried to possess me at the Ministry before and I chucked him out."

His friends all exchanged glances. Next to him, Ron shrugged.

"Then I dunno, mate. But you know, we've got classes to worry about right now, so…"

Harry scowled but had to agree that Ron had a point. They did have classes to worry about and most of them ate at his time tremendously. He rarely had time to spare these days for relaxing.

But that didn't help abate his frustrations, and he just knew he was going to have to plan another midnight run...and soon. Or he might start snapping at everyone and generally being a miser. Or worse, his elemental ability would get out of hand, since it was tied partially to emotion. And since by this point the manipulation of air had become virtually instinctive, any emotional upheaval usually resulted in lots of damage.

"Speaking of class," said Hermione, "it's about time to get going."

Harry quickly stuffed the last of his marmalade toast in his mouth and stood up, collecting his school bag. With a nod to Ginny, he, Ron, Hermione and Neville left the hall for the day's first lesson.

* * *

It was with relief that Harry woke up Saturday morning, knowing he had no classes for two whole days. He reckoned he'd be spending both days buried in his textbooks, studying and finishing wayward essays.

Nevertheless, he slept in to nine that morning, and then got sleepily from his bed to take a warm shower. Ron joined him just as he was stepping out of the shower stall, towel wrapped around his waist and feeling refreshed.

"Morning," his friend mumbled.

"Morning," replied Harry. He moved to brush his teeth, but found Ron was still watching him, a small frown on his face. "What?"

Ron shrugged and scrubbed a hand across his sleep-filled eyes. "Nothing I guess. It's just…" He looked at Harry again and shook his head. "It's just, I've noticed you seem to have got not only taller, but more muscular too. I'd ask what you were doing, but I know I wouldn't get an answer."

Harry shuffled guiltily. His friends really knew how to push his buttons just right.

"But I've also noticed," continued Ron, "what's that necklace you always wear now? It's weird. You never seem to take it off." He stepped closer and peered at it, asking wonderingly, "Is that real gold?"

Harry stepped back out of reflex and said uncomfortably, "Uh, yeah. My, uh, Aunt gave it to me. It was my mother's."

A lie, but a convincing one. No one would want to question his motives for wearing it now.

Sure enough, Ron's eyes widened and he said, "Oh. Um, okay. I'll have a shower now."

Harry nodded and watched Ron disappear behind one of the shower curtains before he turned to look at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He guessed he hadn't noticed he'd acquired a good deal of muscle from Melcacrist's brutal training, but it was only natural really. Shrugging, he brushed his teeth quickly and got dressed, tucking his necklace under his shirt, out of view.

He met up with Hermione and Ginny in the common room. Neville was already down there too, sitting in a corner and finishing up something for Herbology. Harry half envied the other boy for his apparent ease in the subject. Out of everyone there, Neville came out of each Herbology lesson with the least amount of cuts and bruises.

Fed up with waiting for Ron, Hermione and Ginny left, and Harry sat down with Neville to wait. He peered at Neville's work.

"What's that?" He asked, certain Sprout hadn't assigned them anything due Monday.

Neville looked up with a grin. "Oh, just something I'm helping Professor Sprout with. It's not a class assignment."

Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You have time for that?"

Neville shrugged. "It's something I'm good at. I'll make time if I have to."

Shaking his head, but grinning, Harry couldn't help but compare Neville to Hermione for just a second.

Ron came clomping down the stairs just then, so Neville packed up his things and all three boys left the common room for breakfast.

They ran into Malfoy coming up from the dungeons right before the entrance to the Great Hall, and Harry tensed. But Malfoy just shot them a venomous glare and stalked on past them, entering the hall ahead of them. They all exchanged glances.

"Malfoy's been awfully quiet this year so far, hasn't he?" Questioned Ron.

Harry and Neville nodded. Not once had they had a particularly loud confrontation with their school rival yet. Not even during Slughorn's ridiculous Slug Club event, which Harry had poked his head into for all of five seconds during the first week of school, and then promptly run the other way. Neville and Ron had gone anyway, so had Hermione, but when they'd got back they'd said it had been a complete disappointment and that he had been wise to turn tail and run.

Harry hadn't had the heart to tell them that it simply looked like a situation that would have overtaxed his senses, not to mention he wanted a nice, quiet school year (Voldemort excluded), and Slughorn looked to be offering quite the opposite. And the portly man didn't seem to be giving up on him either.

They entered the Hall and sat down next to Hermione and Ginny. Luna was sitting with them as well, instead of at the Ravenclaw table, and she and Hermione had their heads together while Ginny listened on in interest. Harry had a feeling they were discussing their Runes project.

Sure enough, when he peered over platters of sausages, bacon and hash-browns, he found a roll of parchment spread out between them. He could see that they had redrawn (rather clumsily) several _Elwýntencelle_ characters next to each other and labelled them 'source 1', 'source 2', 'source 3', etc…

Harry quickly looked away when Hermione glanced up and greeted them. He didn't want to seem too interested in what she was studying.

"Any luck?" Asked Neville, nodding his head at the parchment.

Hermione shook her head with a sigh. "It seems impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," said Luna, not even looking up. Her finger was running up and down the various scrawled notes underneath the rows of characters.

Hermione nodded her head firmly and looked determined. "Quite right. We're not giving up yet."

Harry didn't have the heart to try and encourage them, though he knew that's what he would have done given a different situation. Instead he focused on breakfast and tried to tune out Hermione's eager explanations to a somewhat baffled Neville. That is, he tried to until a scream tore through the Hall and everyone fell silent within seconds.

Harry looked up, his wand was already in his hand and his senses alert, despite the ringing in his ears.

"L-look! What are they!"

Harry, along with virtually everyone else in the Hall who hadn't already noticed, turned to

face the great double doors. Framed between them was a Guard. And not just any Guard.

A Royal Guard dedicated to securing the safety and well-being of the House of Caladharan of _Elwýn, _composed of about ten soldiers, a captain, and - Harry felt what little blood was left drain completely from his face - a translator - _Quenah_ to be exact.

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. Around him students were yelling and pulling out their wands, asking what was going on? Were they under attack?

He pinched himself. Hard.

No, he wasn't dreaming.

This was impossible. What happened to the human realm being forbidden? What happened

to the secrecy of the elves and their desire not to interact with humans at all?

Harry wondered if hell had frozen over.

"Oh my god," whispered Hermione as the Guard began to march steadily into the hall. As they made their way down the space between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, the soldiers peeled off and took up station. They spaced themselves evenly and looked rather impressive, standing there, their backs to the students, a bow and quiver on their backs, their belts harbouring two smaller swords and one long one, and each one holding a long, deadly looking spear. It looked rather surreal.

The captain and Quenah then made their way down the guarded aisle until they were directly below the head table, and then the captain demanded in loud _Elwýnllambe_, _"Which of you is your leader? The one known as Dumbledore."_

Quenah calmly repeated the phrase in English and immediately McGonagall stood up, shock written plainly across her face. The rest of the teachers shuffled in their seats nervously, but Harry could tell they each had their wands in their hands and pointed at the elven regiment under the table. He was equally certain that each elf in the hall was aware of the subtly glowing wands, whose intent was quite clear. If the teachers decided to let off a spell of any kind, the _Elwý_ in question would not be there to receive it.

"What…? Who…?" McGonagall tried to say, her eyes flicking frantically over each elf and finally landing back on the captain and Quenah. She tried again. "Who are you, and what business do you have with the Headmaster?"

_"You are not Dumbledore. Bring him here."_

Quenah translated yet again, which Harry found rather redundant, and McGonagall's mouth twisted in irritation. Her eyes flickered to Snape, who was busy glaring at the intruders. He caught her gaze, and with a scowl, got up silently and swept from the table, robes billowing behind him dramatically.

Harry followed his figure as it stalked past the Slytherin table, completely ignoring the elves lined up in the middle. He disappeared out the doors.

"Now, surely we can...redirect you to somewhere less crowded and public," offered McGonagall. It was clear her motive was to get the elves out of the Great Hall and away from the children. Harry, too, was nervous. Even he didn't know what would happen next. The fact that they were even here, right now, was proof that the world had come to an end.

"We will stay right here until your leader has been fetched," translated Quenah.

Harry had a sudden image of a dog with spectacles and a long white beard in his mind. He snickered.

Unfortunately, the sound carried, and soon people were looking over at the Gryffindor table, trying to find the source of the noise - and whoever thought the situation was funny. Harry shrunk down in his seat and tried to look inconspicuous. He didn't know if the _Elwý_ knew about his human persona, but he wasn't about to give them the opportunity to find out. He was going to stay out of their way, let them deal with whatever they'd exposed themselves for on their own, and then carry on with his nice, normal, elf-free school life.

Maybe he'd consider telling his friends at a later date, once he was sure they wouldn't freak out or try to study him like an experiment (read: Hermione).

"Harry," hissed Hermione from across from him, "don't draw attention to us!" Her voice was quiet, but Harry knew the elves had heard. Fortunately, they put no stock in the whisperings of children, and considering that most tables had hushed conversations going on too, no one paid much attention. He half expected Quenah to turn around, but he didn't.

"What's going on guys?" Asked Neville fearfully, his voice so low that everyone but Harry had to lean in and strain to hear it.

"I've never...seen these creatures before," murmured Ginny.

"They are the Ancient Ones," said Luna dreamily.

"Of course!" Whisper-exclaimed Hermione, apparently the only one who understood what Luna meant. "The legendary Fae!" She said it loud enough so that a few more students heard and soon the whole hall was raging with fearful, yet excited whispers of them

Just then, Dumbledore came striding through the doors, a concerned and somewhat frightful look on his face, Snape hot on his heels. He strode right through the line of elven guards, not looking the least bit intimidated or worried and Harry had to respect the man. He exuded confidence and power in waves.

"And who might you be?" Asked Dumbledore authoritatively.

The captain turned his back on McGonagall and eyed the Headmaster up and down.

"_You_ are Dumbledore?" Translated Quenah, voice inflections and all. Privately, Harry winced. The elves had many different forms of personal pronouns depending on the situation and level of politeness required - in this case the captain had all but called Dumbledore a dog. It was a good thing no one in the Great Hall spoke elvish but Harry and the elves.

"Yes. Perhaps we might take this somewhere more private?"

"No need," said the captain. "We only wish to find the location of the one called Voldemort."

A gasp rippled through the Hall and a lot of people winced at the name. Harry's friends all exchanged looks, utterly confused, but at the same time resigned - if anyone could draw a never before seen race out of hiding to come either hunt him down or join him, it would have to be Voldemort.

But to Harry everything finally made sense. No doubt the _Elwý_ had found out that Voldemort had come back to life and were here to exact revenge for the murder of their Prince and Princess. There was nothing less that would make them come out of hiding.

But at the same time, he was surprised that he hadn't already been dragged back by his ears. There was a reason he hadn't used Voldemort as an argument to convince his grandparents to let him return - for while he was sure they would wish to exact revenge on the resurrected Dark Lord, they would also fear for his safety. They never would have let him come.

Unless he'd underestimated their superiority complex and desire for revenge. Perhaps he had.

"Why," said Dumbledore slowly, and aware of listening ears all around him, "would you want to find Voldemort?"

Harry saw his hand stray to his pocket where he no doubt kept his wand.

"He is to be executed," responded the captain matter-of-factly.

Harry almost choked. The manner in which the elves talked about Voldemort, as if he was simply vermin that needed to be exterminated, amused him greatly. If only Voldemort were here to hear. Harry would pay dearly to see the look on his face.

In addition to Harry's reaction, many of the students gasped and broke out into fearful chatter. Even the teachers looked rather shellshocked. Only Dumbledore really kept any composure.

"And why might Voldemort warrant this treatment from a people that I am...hesitant to call Fae. Yet I cannot think of any other explanation. You are indeed of the Realm of Fae? Therefore, I doubt he could have drawn a people no wizard has been able to touch into our conflict."

"On the contrary," said the captain coldly, eyes sparking and brows furrowing as his hand strayed to his sword, "he murdered our Crown Princess and her Prince."

Shocked silence encompassed the Hall. Harry closed his eyes wearily.

Murdered was right. And now Voldemort was going to pay the price. He had messed with the wrong nation - the _Elwý _would be merciless.

"Excuse me?" Was all Dumbledore managed to say. "There must be some mistake. The Fae are but legends to us, we have not encountered your kind in thousands of years - it is highly unlikely that Voldemort could have killed your prince and princess."

Harry winced. Dumbledore probably shouldn't have said that.

"Do not presume knowledge, human!" Barked the captain. "We are a proud race and we do not take kindly to being told what to _think_. This Voldemort killed our Prince and Princess sixteen human years ago and then vanished. We thought him dead, but apparently your kind has somehow perverted the natural order of life and discovered a way to bring back the dead. We will not stand for it. He will be executed immediately for his transgressions against our nation."

Snape's face began to take on that look which meant he was furious - the one Harry rather likened to Uncle Vernon when he got angry. Even McGonagall's lips thinned almost to non-existence at the insults to her species. A few angry mutters came out of the crowd of students, but for the most part everyone was cowed into silence.

"Then perhaps," said Dumbledore somewhat coldly, "you might enlighten me as to the nature of their deaths. Then I might be able to help."

A stare-off ensued - Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes matching the furious cat-like, glowing green eyes of the captain. Harry sunk further into his seat, fearing a confrontation and hoping it wouldn't come to that. If it did, he might have to interfere, and he really didn't need the extra publicity.

"This is intense," whispered Ron excitedly.

"You really think they're Fae?" Asked Neville softly.

No one answered him, they were all too busy watching the tension build between the two men - or rather, the wizard and the elf.

"Very well," snapped the captain, sounding as if he had just granted Dumbledore a great boon. Then he gestured to Quenah and told him in elvish, _"Tell this white-bearded human fool about the murder, though he should have no right to hear it. Nor the rest of their pathetic young spawn."_

Harsh, thought Harry. He felt a bit of resentment on behalf of his friends, who had no idea what the elf had just said.

The captain looked on as Quenah began to explain the situation in relatively polite terms:

"About forty of your years ago, our Princess made a foray into this realm. She wanted to learn about the humans and their magic, as had many of our kind before. We are a studious people who seek to perfect our knowledge and ways.

"For some unexplained reason, she grew to love this realm, as perilous and barbaric as it is." Quenah paused for a moment to allow his lips to twist in distaste. Harry could have rolled his eyes. As good a friend as the older elf was, he was still just as prejudiced as the rest of them. "One of our higher noble Houses had decided to follow the example of the Princess and send their son to this realm. They met and fell in love, as was hoped by his House. However, they did not return to our land just yet, they stayed longer, married, and had a son." Quenah smiled. Harry's own lips twisted upwards, though he tried to hide it. "The King and Queen implored her Highness to return, but she did not, and she paid the ultimate price when the human you call Voldemort murdered them both in a surprise attack sixteen of your years ago. Fortunately, their son survived the attack and the royal line continues." Quenah sighed, sorrow creasing his face. "They were young. Barely two centuries old. Their lives cut short before they even reached their prime. This Voldemort will pay for the loss he has caused our people, and for the heartache he has suffered upon our beloved Prince. And the King and Queen will have their revenge for the deaths of their children."

The captain smiled grimly as Quenah finished, his eyes alight with an inner fire. Harry knew he was fanatically devoted to the royal family - as were all the Royal Guard.

More silence reigned across the Hall. Some students even sniffled. A few girls were crying. Across from him, Hermione's expression was stricken as she whispered, "How horrible! I can hardly believe it...You-Know-Who has a lot to answer for." her expression turned hard.

Harry couldn't agree more. He hadn't known his parents were that young...or old, depending on your point of view. He also hadn't known they had met while at Hogwarts - he had assumed they'd known each other from before. He wondered if they'd known who the other was at first, or if they believed each other human.

Finally, it was Snape who broke the silence.

"A touching story," he sneered.

The captain levelled a fierce glare at the greasy-haired man, and even Quenah looked murderous.

"Hold your tongue, lackey," commanded the captain. Quenah injected just as much venom into his own voice when he translated.

Snape's eyes bugged and his mouth opened again, no doubt to retort most foully, but Dumbledore raised a hand and said solemnly, "Please, Severus, do not aggravate the situation."

Snape fell silent with a surly scowl. Harry smirked.

"I am saddened by your tale," murmured the Headmaster gravely. "Voldemort has caused our world much grief and strife already, and to know that he has touched worlds even beyond ours weighs heavily on my heart. I am sure that everyone in the Hall can agree with me when we offer your people our greatest condolences. Perhaps if you might be so kind, we can continue this discussion in my office and I can offer you any additional knowledge I might have."

The captain considered Dumbledore's proposal for a moment, before he decided and inclined his head in acceptance. He barked a few orders at the rest of the Guard, telling half of them to go set up camp just beyond the tree-line of the Forbidden Forest and rendez-vous with the Black Guard, and the rest to come with him to the human's war room. Harry watched them go with relief, finally releasing his tensed shoulders and sitting upright in his seat once more. As soon as the doors had clanged shut on the great wizard and his entourage, excited chattering broke out loudly across the Hall. Harry turned to his friends, wondering what they would say.

"Oh my…."

"What just happened?" Asked Ron. He pinched himself as if he couldn't quite believe what had just occurred.

"The Great Fae have come out of hiding to exact retribution on the Dark Lord," replied Luna, although Ron hadn't really been looking for an answer.

"What do you think they were?" Asked Neville. "You don't think they're really…?"

Harry clamped his mouth shut - it was Hermione who answered.

"Yes. I do. They were Fae. Can you believe it?" She sighed and shook her head. "What's even more strange…well, I know this might sound odd, but the Muggles have fairy tales about beings who are tall and graceful and live forever and have long, pointed ears like that."

"They do?" Ron blinked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. We call them 'elves'."

"What?" Guffawed Ron in laughter. Even Ginny giggled.

"Well Ron, there can always be several kinds of 'elves'. For instance, there are Santa's elves, the House Elves, and now these ones. Muggles also have tales of the Fae, or Sidhe or Seelie, but no one can ever agree on what they look like. To me they look like Elves, but I suppose they really might be the Fae."

"Fae," said Neville softly. "Ethereal beings who live on another plane and do not follow the laws of man. Who lure humans past the veil between worlds and wreck havoc upon their minds. Some disappear and never come back. Changlings." He looked past them at the empty doors. "I always thought they were just fairy tales meant to frighten us when we were children."

"Right," nodded Hermione. "But I'm honestly not surprised they really do exist. I mean, Muggles don't think vampires and werewolves exist but they do, so why can't wizards have creatures from fairy tales suddenly pop up?" She leaned forward eagerly, hands gripping the edge of the table hard. "And did anyone notice? Those Fae were _glowing_. Like their skin was luminescent."

"I thought they were beautiful," said Ginny softly, "I'd like to say 'mysterious' too, but it almost takes some of the awe and mystery out of them to know that they can be killed so easily. They seemed so powerful."

There was an awkward silence. Harry tried to shrink back down in his seat to avoid catching anyone's eye, but stopped himself at the last second.

"Maybe," muttered Hermione, "it was because they were so young. That Fae said they were only just two centuries old. If the Fae really do live forever then two centuries is nothing! And Voldemort could have taken them by surprise. But I just feel so awful for that poor little boy." She sniffled.

"I know!" Cried Ginny. Both girls exchanged teary looks. Even Neville looked morose, no doubt thinking of his own parents. Harry himself was rather touched, but kept his mouth sealed.

Ron just looked disgusted. "Oh, come on. He's the _Prince_, I'm sure he has servants waiting on him hand and foot! Besides, he'd be our age now, wouldn't he? Plenty of time to get over it."

Harry could have hit his friend right then. A big whopper to the face. The rest of his friends looked shell-shocked - even Luna had torn her eyes away from the runes still spread out on the table to narrow her eyes at Ron.

"What?" Said Ron.

"How do you know they even age the same as us?" Asked Hermione acidly. "You're so insensitive, Ronald! Maybe he's still a baby. And just because he's a prince doesn't make him any less susceptible to emotions than us! I'm sure he misses his parents very much."

_Thanks, Hermione_, thought Harry, a warm glow filling him. Yes, Ron could be an insensitive prick sometimes, but Hermione seemed to balance him out just fine.

"I don't know about you guys, but I find it so hard to imagine one of those creatures as a child. They just seem so ancient and all-knowing, as if they were born that way," murmured Neville.

"They're probably _thousands_ of years old," said Hermione in awe.

"Could you imagine living for so long?" Asked Luna softly.

"No," whispered Harry, for the first time speaking up. Everyone turned to stare at him in surprise, almost like they'd forgotten he was there.

Harry felt a shiver go down his spine. Staring at his friends now, watching their reactions to the elves, he knew that he couldn't tell them about himself. Especially listening to them talk about immortality. He couldn't quite fathom it himself, yet it was true. He would still be in his _youth_ when they were all dead and gone. He would be as old as Dumbledore and still be considered a young adult.

He swallowed and suddenly felt faint.

"Harry? You okay?" Hermione reached across the table to place her hand on his forehead. "You feel clammy."

Harry swallowed again - his throat felt dry. "I…"

"Really," exclaimed Ginny, "you don't look so good. Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey?"

Ron edged subtly away from him on the bench. Harry gave him a look and Ron just shrugged and muttered, "If you're sick, I don't want to get sick either."

Harry sighed. What was he going to do? He didn't want anyone to know who he was, but that would mean avoiding the elven guard and especially Quenah.

And he needed to get away from his friends and their sometimes thoughtless comments. How were they to know the object of their discussion was sitting right there with them?

"Yeah," he found himself saying, "I don't feel so well. I'm going to the Infirmary."

He stood up, one of the first students to do so after the elves had stormed into the room. Everyone stopped talking frantically to look at him with surprise.

"Mr. Potter-" Began McGonagall from the Head Table.

"Not feeling well," Harry interrupted, and then he turned on his heel and hurried out of the Hall as fast as he dared. A fast pace indeed, had he been human.

_Had he been human. _

Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt just like he had at the beginning of summer, before he had accepted who he'd become - who he always had been.

"Denying this would be denying them," he whispered to himself.

He knew his parents would not have wanted him to run from himself. They would have wanted him to be proud of who he was and accept himself wholly. Harry was Harry and that was it. He wasn't Harry Potter - Golden Boy, or Harry Potter - Boy-Who-Lived...he was just Harry. Or Araëmel. He had been gifted with two names and two identities.

And now he would use them to his advantage. He wouldn't let one life bleed into the other - not if he could help it.

Call it a form of escapism, but he was quite happy with his decision. In the human realm he would be just Harry Potter - no elvish nonsense, and certainly no Prince nonsense. In _Elwýn_ he would be the Prince, but never the Boy-Who-Lived.

While neither identity was exactly ideal - he was in the spotlight no matter where he ended up - the least he could do was keep the two separate and prevent them from getting even more complicated than they already were.

So he spent the rest of the day in the hospital wing, thinking and sleeping. When his friends came to visit him, he pretended he was asleep and they left not long afterwards. Eventually, Madame Pomfrey got fed up of having him and kicked him out just after dinner.

He turned a quick visit to the kitchens for some food into a long one. There he discovered that Kreacher was making a general nuisance of himself and that the other House Elves had silenced him for daring to speak ill of his Master. He also found out, much to his mortification, that the House Elves looked upon the _Elwý_ as virtual gods.

He supposed it was only natural. The elves were perhaps one of the oldest races in existence, not to mention long-lived, powerful and knowledgeable. So really, it was only natural that the House Elves looked up to them even more than humans.

Flustered and feeling ridiculously praised, though none of it had been directed at him per se, Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower, where he avoided questions and concerns by saying he was going straight to bed. Instead, he did his homework until midnight, and then slept for a few hours until a vision forced his mind from sleep early Sunday morning.

_Voldemort was laughing. Laughing so hard his head was thrown back and his eyes mere crimson slits in his grotesque face. _

_ "Fae!" He laugh-hissed. "Fae have come for me!"_

_ A row of nervous death eaters shuffled uncomfortably in front of his throne._

_ Voldemort's laughter abruptly cut off as he began to calm. "Your sson is sure of thisss?"_

_ "Yes, milord," said a familiar drawling voice. Lucius Malfoy. "He said that you _

_unknowingly killed their supposed prince and princesses in the previous war and they've come to, ah," he cleared his throat delicately, "execute you."_

_ Voldemort burst out laughing again and all the death eaters flinched. _

_ "Ssso amusssing." Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted in a mocking smile. _

_ "H-he also said they appeared strong, milord."_

_ Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Stronger than I?"_

_ "Of course not, my lord! None is stronger that you! But they, uh, might prove to be a _

_nuisance." Malfoy managed to save himself._

_ Voldemort hissed under his breath. "Yesss, they might. But I am intrigued all the sssame. New orders! Find out everything we know about the Fae."_

_ The death eaters bowed with murmured, 'Yes, my lord's and Voldemort dismissed them, ignoring their departure as he gazed at some unseen object. _

_ "The legendary Fae," he purred. "I wonder what new powerss I can glean from them."_

The vision faded and Harry's eyes fluttered open. So, Voldemort knew about the 'Fae' and was...amused by it? Obviously he saw no threat in them, perhaps because he had no idea how powerful they were. No doubt he saw the _Elwý _as just more non-human creatures that could be easily subjugated by modern wizard magics just like the centaurs and the House Elves and the mermaids. Harry smiled grimly. The Dark Lord was in for a rude awakening when the guards first attacked.

Yet, he thought it would be a good idea to let them know that Voldemort knew they were looking for him. Just so that they wouldn't think they had the complete element of surprise. Unfortunately, the vision hadn't revealed anything of Voldemort's previous plans or what he thought he was going to _do_ with the _Elwý _when they attacked.

Frowning, now, Harry rolled over and went back to sleep.

He didn't dream again that morning - nothing that he remembered in any case, and rolled out of bed earlier than usual. He got up and dressed as quickly as he dared, and scribbled a quick warning on a scrap of parchment. He was just at the portrait hole when he had to pause and think.

He didn't exactly want to run into any of the _Elwý_, for fear of his secret getting out. Hewondered if they were roaming the halls, or if he would be safe to sprint up to the Owlery and send Hedwig off with a quick note to the forest.

After some thought, he decided that the _Elwý_ wouldn't be anywhere near the Great Hall during meals. Nor would they be able to get into Gryffindor Tower. And perhaps they might avoid classes. The elves wouldn't want to be near so many 'human brats' if they could help it.

But anywhere else was fair game. So he would have to be swift and use as many secret passages as possible.

Harry needn't have worried. He made it there and back without so much as a glimpse of any living creature. Even most of the portraits were still asleep, a few only just waking up as he sprinted past.

He was back down in the common room before anyone else, so he sat in an armchair by the fire and stared into its crackling flames pensively, thinking about his visions, and the arrival of the Guard. The heat was soothing, and the crackling and sizzling sounds of the fire distracting enough to prevent him from getting too pensive.

He was snapped out of his musings by a tapping on the window closest to him.

Harry got up and walked over to unlatch it, wondering if it was a letter. Sure enough, a small owl had a regular muggle envelope tied to its leg and was beating its wings quickly to stay aloft.

He stood back to let it in and it perched itself on the window sill and proffered its limb. Harry quickly untied the letter and apologised for not having any bird treats at hand. The owl gave him an offended look and then promptly took off out the window again.

Harry shut it and sat back down, turning the letter over in his hands - and then he froze. Written clearly across the front of the rather normal looking muggle envelope was his name - in _Elwýntencelle_.

Only one person could have possibly written this letter and known where to send it - his Aunt Petunia.

He ripped open the envelope and fumbled for the folded, lined notebook paper inside.

_Araëmel_, he read,

_I wrote this in elvish because I didn't want anyone else reading it. Especially those wizarding freaks of yours. It was bad enough having to send this by bloody _owl_. Tell those freaks to get a proper mailing system!_

_ Anyway, I am writing this letter to inform you about the Guard of Elwý that just showed up in my house. It may be too late by the time you get this - I don't know how long it will take them to find that school of yours, or how long it will take me to find one of your freakish post offices. _

_ I feared that this might happen if they found out about my sister's murderer rising from the dead or whatever freak thing he did. I don't know or care, but my parents do. I never believed in my lifetime that the Elwý would ever reveal themselves to the humans they despise so much, but I suppose their desire to hunt down Voldywort is greater. Either way, I'm quite sure my parents have gone mad. _

_ They also want to protect you. I'm sure if they could they'd drag you back, but until Voldywart is dead, they won't rest._

_ Be careful. Don't let them control you._

_ From, _

_ Aunt Petunia._

Harry blinked and re-read the letter, positive he'd misread, but sure enough, his Aunt Petunia - his _magic fearing_ Aunt Petunia - had written him a warning letter and somehow found the courage to hunt down a wizarding post office to send it.

It was probably the nicest letter he'd ever received from a family member.

He shook his head in disbelief. Now he _knew_ the world was coming to an end.

First the _Elwý_ and now his aunt. What next? Voldemort would halt his plans of world domination? Snape would wash his hair?

Harry laughed at that one.

"What's so funny?"

Harry jerked in his chair and whirled around. He'd thought he was alone! He'd been so focused on reading he hadn't been paying attention.

Hermione stood on the steps to the girls dormitories, looking fresh and ready to start a new day. She walked over to where he sat and he quickly stood up, hiding the letter behind his back.

It wouldn't do to have Hermione recognise the language it was written in. That would be bad - very, very bad.

"Uhhh, nothing really. Ready for breakfast? Come on, let's go!" Behind his back, he surreptitiously crumpled the letter and then tossed it behind him into the fire with a flick of his wrist.

Hermione peered around him and then looked back at him, brows furrowed. "Harry...did you just throw whatever you were reading into the fire?"

"What? No!"

Harry was a horrible liar. He knew Hermione could tell he was hiding something. Right, time to leave the scene of the crime.

"Tell you what, I'll go on ahead to breakfast. I've got a lot of catching up to do today. See you later!"

He made a dash for the entrance and exited quickly (but not _too_ quickly) before his friend could demand anything further from him.

Unfortunately, Harry had forgotten to throw away the envelope as well, and had left it lying on the armchair seat. If he'd stuck around, he'd have seen Hermione reach out and pick it up, before her head jerked up and stared in shock at the common room entrance where her friend had just disappeared.

"What the…?" She whispered, tracing the elvish symbols on the muggle envelope.

"Harry...what's going on?" She asked the empty room.

* * *

**AN: **Well, It's probably not what most of you were expecting to happen, I'm sure. I know it happened a lot sooner than most of you thought it would, am I right? Nevertheless, happen it did! Now, the question is: was it what you were hoping for? What did you think? Enough drama? **grins **

The elves might have shown up, but no one knows Harry's connection to them...yet. But Harry's making more mistakes, and Hermione's getting close to the secret.

Anyway, for those of you who were wondering what had happened to the Black Guard, now you know! They've been camping in the Forest, keeping a low profile but patrolling the grounds to keep any potential enemies away from the castle. We also got a glimpse of the centaurs (yay surly Bane!), and Aunt Petunia even showed up (sort of). Also, Quenah's back!

To answer a few questions:

**1) **When Harry is disgusted by the smells of people such as Snape and Kreacher, he is not smelling (or sensing) evil. They just smell _really really bad. _After all, Snape never washes his hair, remember! **winks** Really though, it's the residue Potions fumes (just because he's the DADA teacher doesn't mean he's stopped brewing Potions!) And Kreacher is very dirty and thus very smelly. _  
_

**2) **Despite what many of you might be hoping...no, Luna really doesn't know anything. Or _does _she? You can never tell with Luna. She tends to see things others doesn't. Maybe she knows who Harry is, maybe she doesn't. But she is not an elf and had no prior knowledge of them. She is on the other hand, a very good guesser and also very observant and tends to make connections between things that other people wouldn't. Just some food for thought there.

Questions? Comments? Want to support the author and feed her brain? Click that little bluish-purple button just below and review!

Cheers all!

xoxRia


	20. Author Note the good kind

**NEW AUTHOR NOTE**

No, your eyes are not deceiving you; I have indeed posted the new version of Ex Sanguis up on my author profile. As some of you may have noticed, this story has now been renamed to "Ex Sanguis OLD VERSION" (Yes, I'm oh so inventive) and has been officially discontinued.

Let us all have a moment of silence to mourn.

Right. Moving on.

As most of you no doubt inferred, the results of the pole were pretty unanimous. 80 percent wanted a new story, so new story you have received. For those that didn't, sorry, but majority vote rules.

Chapter 1, new and improved, is up at this very moment. Within the next few days chapter 2 will go up, and hopefully not long after that, chapter 3.

For those of you muttering darkly and glaring at me through cyberspace and wondering why dear god WHY have I taken so long to do this? BLAME MY SISTER!

(For anyone additionally wondering what my sister has to do with anything, she not only is my sounding board, but has had a large hand in the re-writing of this fic, the new and improved plot outline, and serves as my beta as her compulsion to correct people's grammar is unprecedented. Observe:

Mum: I wouldn't do that if I was yo…u…

Sister, interrupting: Were!

Mum, pauses: Yes, yes, if I WERE you. It's too long and has gotten all-

Sister, interrupting again: Got! Not gotten, GOT.

Mum, pauses again: It's GOT all tangled up and blah blah blah…

_Conversion continues in a similar vein_)

So, I've just shucked all the blame on her poor, innocent head. HA! Well, to be fair, the poor girl had college exams all the way up until the 21st of December, and after that it was practically Christmas…and then after _that_ we took a 'family' trip to Disneyland (aka, Hell on Earth)…

…and then she was 'busy' and only returned my new chapters to me like the day before I left the country.

So then _I_ had a day of plane flights, a day of recovery, a day of exams, another day of travel via train…and now, NOW, at the end of this exhaustive journey, I sit here at the kitchen table eating cakes and chocolate to console myself and lessen the guilt of making you all wait so long (yeah, you wish…I'm just hungry) and dutifully present to you all what you've all been anxiously waiting for.

I hope.

Feel free to curse at me some more, although I recommend you do it on the new version seeing as this AN has replaced the old one and some of you won't be able to double review. Muhaha!

The end.

**xoxRia**

p.s. I love how I said I would take down that previous AN and never did. Well, this time, in order to keep with fanfiction's silly regulations about AN chapters, I'll take it down after a few weeks, so you all might want to put the new ES on alert as soon as you read this…just to be on the safe side.

Assuming it's showed up on my profile yet. Sure hope so.


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